The Unworthy
by Snipe-The-Sorrow
Summary: Vaas and Citra's father had always expected so much of them. As the future leaders of the Rakyat, they would need to be strong in both body and mind. But how far can you push someone before they snap? (Set before the events of Far Cry 3) Rated M for strong language, violence and sexual themes.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The cool night air danced over the tops of the towering trees; a pinch of sand and earth within its gentle embrace reflected the pale glow of the moon above. The lethargic twists of the breeze spiralled downwards to the earth uttering a muted howl as it reached down, whispering its secrets to any who would listen. Leaves rustled as it flowed over them as if greeting the sweet air from on high, welcoming it down into the Earth's domain. The sky's breath swayed onwards though the hushed undergrowth collecting more minuscule gifts from the soil. A flutter of dried leaves echoed out into the small clearing before it as it sauntered towards the collection of little shacks, the wind's fingers carefully traced the tops of the roofs, as if to reacquaint itself with the memory of the little village. It weaved through the orange blaze of the torches, the flames crackling and bending under the airs will. Further it ventured, wrapping its brisk lack of form around the strange objects before it. As it took its leave, it brushed against the warm and dark skin of a woman standing in an alcove. Small goosebumps formed on her arm as it kissed her bare flesh before finally fading away into the inky blackness of night.

The woman sighed taking in the night air and idly wrapping her arms around herself. Her eyes stared out unblinkingly at the two small figures sitting in the middle of the soft grass. A sad smile tugged at her sun beaten features as she watched the two children, unaware of her gaze. Time stood still as she watched them. The occasional little chuckle snapped her from her trance, the eldest of the two sat watching his sister, hanging off her every word.

"No matter what, he never gets tired of hearing her wild stories... They have grown so close," a man's voice made her jump. The woman turned, her face lighting up in a warm smile to greet her husband,

"Hunapo, you scared me..." His heavily tattooed face creased into a fond smirk as he wrapped his arm around her.

"It fills me with pride to see them like this," he carried on as if he hadn't heard her, "This gives me great hope for us."

"It's almost unbelievable," she thought out-loud, "that we would be blessed with such an honour... For our darlings to be the saviours of your people." Hunapo paused, taking a moment to examine his wife,

"Elsa," he started, a hint of aggravation in his tone, "_our_ people." Elsa's eyes remained fixed on her children for a few seconds, "They will be the saviour of _our_ people." He removed his arm from around her shoulders, keeping a stern gaze on her as he turned to enter the small shack, "It's late," he shot her a forced smile, put them to bed."

The sun rise crept over the thick canopy towards the village. The trees groaned and creaked under it's hot stare as if coming to life. Elsa stood in the doorway smiling and waving to her husband and a group of other men as they made their way towards a large, unkempt vehicle, rifles and machetes slung over their sun kissed frames.

"Mama, mama." She smiled broadly, peering down in the direction of the little voice, "I want to go." Elsa wrapped her arms around her son, a playful chuckle escaping her lips,

"My little one," she placed a gentle kiss his forehead and brushed some stray black hair aside, "you are far too small!"

"I am not small," he urged, folding his arms huffily. Elsa shook her head in amused silence,

"One day soon, when your father feels you are ready, he'll take you out hunting with him." The little boy fell silent, she watched, almost knowing exactly what he was thinking. Her little boy had always been awed by his father, both of her dear children had. Hunapo Talugmai had always been the strongest warrior of his tribe, a shining inspiration to all those around him. Elsa, her children and everyone else they had met had felt it, been _drawn_ to his power, the overwhelming force of his charisma. It was no real surprise she had stayed with him when he had asked her all those years ago, abandoned her family and everything she had ever known to be at his side.

"_Mama_," the boy grabbed her hand playfully, she smiled in response,

"Go on Vaas," she motioned to the clearing outside, "go play with your sister," her smile faded as she watched him join his sibling next to the chicken coop. A small swell of heartache made her usually bright eyes darken as she stared out at them. It wouldn't be long before Hunapo would be back. With a sharp intake of breath to clear her mind, she took one last glance over her shoulder before venturing back into her home to make a start on her chores.

The gentle creaking of wood echoed though her ears. The sun had started to creep towards the end of the horizon, pouring out the last vestiges of warmth into the small island and all of its inhabitants before its departure. Elsa's ears picked up as the roar of an engine grew closer. Her attention drifted back to her task, her brow knitted as she plunged the needle through the rough fabric, mentally counting the seconds until her husband returned. A small smile danced on her lips as the happy cries of her children welcoming their father home met her ears. With only a moment's pause, Elsa rose to her feet, clearing the well-loved table before her and packing away the clutter as neatly as she could manage. Her eyes examined the collection of shelves for a moment, making sure that everything was tidy and in its place. The hurried pounding of excited feet grew closer, she turned to face the doorway, her face beaming with a pleasant smile.

"Mama!" her little ones chimed in unison, Vaas stumbled into her, his little face sporting a broad, proud grin,

"Papa killed a _demon_!" her daughter let out an excited laugh,

"I bet his eyes were red and hot like _fire_!"

"Yes, Citra," Hunapo's voice made his wife jump, her eyes focused on him as he made his way over to them, "His eyes were like fire, the coal in his heart fuelling his murderous rage," Hunapo's voice was playful, yet tinted in menace.

"My papa is the strongest warrior," Citra said, her youthful face beaming with pride. Hunapo laughed and heaved her over his shoulders. Vaas stared up at the two, a small smile on his face as he watched his sister giggle. Else knelt down beside her son, wrapping her arms around him,

"And one day when you're all grown up, _you_ will be strong, my darling little warrior," she whispered. Vaas simply smiled proudly at his mother.

"Elsa," Hunapo started, carefully placing Citra back onto the wooden floor. The two watched each other for a moment before her husband finally spoke, "Hunting is hungry work." Vaas watched his mother as she nodded sweetly at his father's statement and began collecting a mass of cooking utensils before heading swiftly out the door to cook their dinner.

"And what did my children do while I was away?" Hunapo removed his rifle, hanging it beside the doorway,

"Vaas and me went tiger hunting!" Citra exclaimed happily, her bright eyes begging for her father's approval,

"Tiger hunting?"

"Yes, but there were no tigers anywhere. It's lucky for them because we would have killed them and made nice coats out of them. Vaas and me would have beaten them up _really_ hard!" The little girl clenched her fists as she was drawn further into her story, punching at the imaginary beasts, "Vaas said we should climb up high so we could see them but they were not there, but then Vaas fell down and hurt his arm and the crying would have scared them off-"

"_Citra_," her brother hissed, cutting her off, his full cheeks beginning to glow crimson, "I did not cry." His sister watched him for a moment, visibly surprised at being snapped out of her train of thought. Hunapo reached down and examined his son's wound, a bloodied purple patch above his elbow caught his attention.

"Crying over a scratch like _that_?" their father's voice was low,

"I didn't cry but it really hurt, papa..." There was a tense pause,

"No, no, Vaas did not cry. I think that I cried because I was worried." Vaas shot a quick and thankful glance at his sister.

"Is that so...?" Hunapo knelt to face his son, "Do you see this?" he gestured to a large scar running from his collar bone to his navel, "_That_, my son, was very painful. But I did not cry." Vaas' eyes stared at the lumpy scar tissue, tracing over the snakelike curve of it as he tried to imagine how much pain an injury like that could cause. "Do you know what I did?" His hazel eyes slowly peered up at his father, he shook his head, "I grabbed the demon by his neck," he placed a heavy hand on the nape of Vaas' neck to emphasise his point, "and I thrust my blade into his heart." Hunapo cracked a brief smile at the little boy and patted him before rising to his feet. "Remember that, my son."

Elsa watched as her little ones and Hunapo emerged from their shack to join the rest of the village for dinner; she stared at her son, his head lowered in what seemed like shame. A sad smile split her blank expression as she watched Citra place a comforting hand on his back. Images and voices raced through her mind as she tried to decide what her husband might have said to them in her absence.

"_Elsa_?" her friend's voice cut through the haze of her thoughts,

"Sorry, Ani, you were saying?" Ani raised a curious eyebrow at her friend before motioning over to the stack of plates beside her,

"Pass me those." Elsa obliged, "You are not with us today, are you?"

"My mind is... otherwise occupied," she confessed, her voice nearly as low as a whisper, "I heard the men got into some trouble today?" Ani smirked, keeping her eyes on the boiling pot of stew before her,

"I thought Hunapo the Brave would have at least told his wife by now." Elsa smiled slightly at the mention of her husband's nickname,

"He most likely has not had the chance."

"Maka said they encountered some of those filthy foreigners." Elsa risked a quick look over at her family, the words 'filthy foreigners' stabbing at her gut like needles. "They sicken me," Ani muttered, "They come here like this island is their own, they enslave and they corrupt everything they touch... At least those... _creatures _usually have the good sense to stay away from us." She paused, taking a small glance at her foreign friend realising how what she had said could be misconstrued, "It is a wonderful thing," she smiled warmly at Elsa, "We found a foreigner worthy of a Rakyat heart." Elsa smiled sweetly at her, it was true that since she had met Hunapo, she had been welcomed into the heart of his people, something had started to fester after all the years. Not long after she had decided to stay, a small group of vicious thugs had laid claim to the island she now resided on. What Ani had said was true, no matter how poorly she had phrased it, _those_ foreigners were ruthless and brutal. The group was small at first, then it seemed like more of them had arrived on her new home each day. The other inhabitants of the island had reacted in radically different ways to the invaders, some had hid, some had come to the Rakyat for protection and others had tried to integrate themselves into the foreigners' world by becoming as useful as possible to the beastly creatures. Elsa's eyes absent-mindedly traced over her family; Hunapo and his Rakyat had seemed to go out of their way to welcome her into their culture, their homes, and yet, in her most silent moments, she knew she would never really be one of them.

After dinner, Elsa sat at the dining table watching her husband complete their nightly ritual. Hunapo sat on the floor in front of her children telling them the great history of their beloved tribe. As gifted as Citra was at telling captivating tales, it was Hunapo who reigned supreme. Her little ones stared up in absolute silence as their father delivered the fables end.

"Papa, papa," Citra shifted in her seat with excitement, "Tell us about the giant's skull again."

"Not tonight, my daughter," he smiled, his weathered skin creasing under its pull, "You must learn the way of our people, feel it when the wind blows, sense it when the river churns and see it when the enemy is near. These lessons are important to you both, as the future rulers of the Rakyat." Elsa sat in silence, only half listening to the speech she had heard Hunapo make a thousand times before and surely would a thousand times again. "_As a warrior of the Rakyat,_" he began in his native tongue, "_You must be at one with this land, be at one with the blades of grass beneath your feet and with the skies above us_." It made her feel uneasy, that no matter how long she had lived there or how many welcomes she had received, very few of the Rakyat had shared their language with her. A few words and phrases here and there but never anything too in-depth. The long speech eventually came to an end, Hunapo leaned closer to the little ones, placing a hand on their shoulders, "I tell you this because it is your birthright, my children." He placed a kiss on Citra's head and patted Vaas on his shoulder, "One day," he took a deep, relaxed breath, "When you have grown and proved you are worthy of the Tatau, you will be our saviours." Elsa felt a lump form in her throat as she watched Hunapo usher the little ones off to bed. "One day they shall make us all proud," he whispered to himself, taking a seat opposite his wife. "Elsa, are you troubled?" his words implied compassion but his tone lacked any feeling. Her hazel eyes met his as she toyed with the idea of telling him how she felt, _really_ telling him how she felt. "Do not make me beg," he warned with only a small hint of joviality evident in his tone.

"I'm just..." she chewed the inside of her lip, "overwhelmed."

"Elsa," he cautioned, knowing full well she was hiding something.

"I," she paused, her nerves jumped as she tried to wrap the right words around her thoughts, "It is just, they are so young..."

"The young must learn; it is my duty. My duty as their father and the leader of my people. I saw it Elsa," he held his hands up to emphasise, "I saw them rise, rise upwards and save us from those..." he glanced at her for a moment, "_Filthy outsiders_," he muttered in his mother tongue, "I saw them, fighting side by side for their people, driving those out who dared to challenge our strength."

"They are just children, Hunapo-"

"No," he snapped, a little louder than he meant to, "They are our saviours. Do you doubt me? Do you doubt me as your husband, Elsa? As your _better_? You don't believe I have the strength to shape those children into the glorious leaders the Rakyat deserve?"

"Of course I do, Hunapo, I didn't mean-"

"I am sick of your disrespect. You come here and I take you in, I provide you with everything you have ever wanted and this is the respect I receive?" Elsa could feel her bottom lip quivering as his words cut at her heart like blades,

"Hunapo, _please_-"

"Do you know what happened today?" Elsa shook her head, desperately trying to avoid his furious stare, "Citra lied to me. She covered up Vaas' moment of weakness." Hunapo stopped, as if waiting for an explanation, "Just as you cover for his weakness. You coddle him, Elsa, you are making him _frail_."

"He is just a child!" she snapped back and immediately regretted it. The silence was deafening in the little hut as he sat there watching her. Without a word he rose to his feet, leaning over the table so he could stare her directly in the eyes.

"No, Elsa. No he is not."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Elsa peered out from her little doorway, the blinding light of the midday sun beat down upon the village. She watched Vaas heave his sister over his shoulder and stagger a few paces. Time was passing so quickly, she thought, three years in what felt like a heartbeat had gone by. Vaas was getting to the awkward stage in any child's youth were they felt that everything they did had to be 'more grown up'. She had heard so many tales from her mother and her mother's friends after she had grown and of course, she had once been a youngster herself. Vaas and Citra were wonderful, well-behaved children, she reassured herself, their awkward stages would surely be nothing more than one or two difficult moments. Elsa's attention was drawn to another group of children making their way over to her little ones. With a small shake of her head to remind herself that her little ones could not stay that way forever, she disappeared into her shack, leaving her children to enjoy the last remnants of being so young.

"Citra!" a sweet voice called out to her, Citra turned, her bright blue eyes lit up at the sight of her friend's approach,

"Chanah," she beamed, leaning over to her brother and yanking his wrist towards her, "Look, look what I made my brother!" Vaas tried his best to appear nonchalant as the other little girl of about Citra's age cautiously peered at the little bracelet made of weakly woven grass.

"Oh, make me one and I can make _you_ one," Chanah turned to her little sister who toddled along loyally behind her, "Come on, Mika." She heaved the little one up into her arms and followed Citra over the the shade. The three other children made their way over to Vaas, forming a circle with him as they slumped heavily into the well trodden dirt. Tane, the oldest of the group with the age of 13, gently slapped Vass' arm with the back of his hand,

"Anything to keep the women happy," he joked, leaning back and raising his head up high. Vaas narrowed his eyebrows slightly at the older boy. He was always like that, showing off how much bigger and stronger he was than the rest of them. A small stab of jealously gnawed at him as he gave Tane a half shrug.

"It's what men are supposed to do," he muttered, his eyes being drawn to his sister and her friends playing a few feet away.

"Ah, you'll be a warrior someday."

"Or not," another boy teased,

"Paau, that is not fair," the last of the trio, Anaru, scolded him, "Vaas can't help it if he's scared of-"

"I'm not scared of anything," Vaas snapped. He hated the other boys when they did this. Just because he wasn't as big as them or because he had no stories of bravery to tell like they did. Tane let out a sarcastic laugh,

"Prove it," he leaned in close, "We're going to sneak into town tonight. Do you think you can manage it?"

"You're joking," Vaas scoffed theatrically, "I could do that in my sleep." Paau and Anaru chuckled to themselves, "What?"

"Have you ever been?" Vaas' brow knitted as he studied the boy's faces curiously,

"Nah, don't tell him, he will be too scared to go."

"Tell me, I don't care what's there." Tane took in a sharp breath through his teeth,

"I don't know if you could handle it..." Vaas' lips pulled into a snarl, he punched the earth in front of him,

"Tell me!" There was a moment of silence as the three boys glanced at each other before Tane finally leaned forward, lowering his voice into a whisper,

"It's full of demons... Full of the crazy men..." Vaas looked up into Tane's eyes, searching for a sign he was lying.

"The crazy men?" he repeated, cursing himself for the worry that had started to form in the pit of his stomach. His father along with his friend's fathers had spoken of them so many times before. The crazy foreigners who had come to the island to destroy it. When he and Citra were younger, their father had described them as demons wearing the skin of men that would pour into the thick trees and hang and gut any warrior that they could.

"See? I told you!" Tane nudged Paau, "I told you he'd be too scared." Vaas shoved Tane, feeling the anger bubbling up within him.

"I want to go now." The boys paused for a moment, taking in Vaas' words, "Or are you too scared to come with me?"

"Now?" Vaas risked a glance at his little sister who seemed to be in a world of her own with her two friends.

"Fine," he rose to his feet and dusted off the seat of his trousers, "I'll go alone." Tane and his friends watched for a moment as he stormed off, heading towards the edge of the clearing.

"Brother!" Citra's cry met his ears, making him visibly wince. "Brother were are you going?" little Citra caught up to her brother, her eyes stared up at him tinted with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

"I'm going to town."

"No," Citra stated, "Mama and papa will be angry if you go," she wrapped her arms around him, making the young boy uncomfortable.

"Citra," Vaas warned, feeling the eyes of his friends on him,

"What if you get hurt?" she looked around cautiously, "... What happens if someone catches you crying?"

"Citra, _shut up_. I do not—" he snapped before feeling a violent swell of guilt wash over him, "Listen, I have to go, okay?" her blue eyes focused on Tane and the other two boys,

"Do not listen to them, they are stupid and I don't like them very much."

"They are my friends, Citra," Vaas shook his head and peered back at the boys, "You wouldn't understand." He watched curiously as Citra took his hand into hers,

"Brother, you will be big and strong one day, even more stronger than _papa,_" he pulled his hand away and let it hang at his side, visibly weighing up his choices.

"Okay, Citra, I won't go to town today."

"Good," she smiled sweetly and turned, making her way back to Chanah and Mika. Vaas watched as the three girls resumed playing together in the shade. I'll go _tonight_, he thought.

The orange flicker of the large bonfire in the middle of the clearing drenched the small village and all its inhabitants in its warm glow. Throughout dinner that evening, Vaas remained silent; only opening his mouth to speak when asked a question. His nerves were seeming to get the better of him as the minutes trickled by.

"Is there something wrong, my son?" Hunapo's voice felt as if it could make him fall to pieces,

"No papa I'm just very tired." he lied, not daring to meet his father's eyes. If he had looked up, he would have seen him shoot his mother a curious glance. The silence grated on him as he prayed for something to break it,

"Little Citra, what did you do today?" Vaas looked over at his sister, his eyes pleading with her to keep his secret,

"I made bracelets with Chanah and Mika and then I told them stories." Hunapo beamed with pride as his daughter answered him, not noticing Vaas' thankful stare. "Everyone thinks my stories are the best."

"I am glad to hear it," he smiled, "One day Citra, you will tell the fables and be the guide to all of our proud people, to inspire and protect them."

"I'll tell the best stories to them," she smiled triumphantly to herself. Hunapo's unblinking eyes turned to his son,

"And you," he risked a short glance at his father, worried that he might see through his veneer and know exactly why he was behaving so subdued, "When you prove yourself worthy to the Rakyat, you will fight for us," he nodded at Citra, "for your sister."

"Yes papa," he paused, racking his brain to try and come up with an answer that could win his father's approval just as Citra's always seemed to. "I will fight for us and be the strongest." Hunapo observed him for a moment, mulling over the little one's words.

"Yes. You will need to be the strongest of us," the hint of doubt in his father's words made the little boy's heart sink. Elsa watched in silence, wishing for the strength to come to her son's rescue and praying his father would relent. "You need to work harder, _Vaas_," he almost spat his name, "By the time I was your age, I was already one of the fiercest warriors the Rakyat had ever seen."

"... I am trying hard, papa."

"Hm," Hunapo stopped and looked his son up and down, "You need to train your body and your soul, my son."

"Are you going to teach us how to be warriors, papa?" Citra piped up, fidgeting in her seat with excitement. Her father's gaze remained firmly fixed on Vaas as he thought,

"Of course. You, little Citra," he smiled warmly at her, "will be taught soon. But you, my son." his gaze returned, "I will turn you into a man." Vaas nodded slowly, his father's words cutting him deep. He would show him, he thought, he would show him how brave and strong he could be.

The sun hadn't been down for long and Vaas saw his opportunity. With the utmost of care, Vaas swung his legs over his bed and paused, making sure Citra was asleep before he continued. He took in a deep breath and held it in as he rose to his feet and carefully made his way over to the little window of their room. The cold night air nipped at his flesh as he broke out into the clearing. Vaas lay on his stomach and scanned the area for any sign of a passer-by. When he was sure he would be unnoticed, he crept away quietly into the darkness.

Vaas bolted through the damp leaves of the thick jungle, his mind racing with worries that he would get mauled by a great and terrible monster using the gloom to stalk him, or even worse, have his father find out what he had done. The boy staggered to a halt, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. A hand shot out of the inky black, landing heavily on his shoulder making him cry out in fear, prompting another hand to slam down over his mouth. His eyelids fluttered as he tried desperately to see who had grabbed him.

"Can you believe this?!" Tane's voice mocked him. Vaas struggled and broke free of the larger boy's grasp, turning to give him a sour glare,

"You surprised me..." Vaas muttered, not knowing anything else to say,

"If you were a true warrior, you would have heard us." He could do nothing but stare furiously at Tane and plead for a higher power to grant him the strength to punch his head off his shoulders.

"Doesn't matter, come on," Anaru whispered, "town is this way."

They had been walking through the mass of trees for what had felt like an eternity. Sweat beaded from Vaas' forehead as he plodded along behind the three boys. Eventually, the sound of chattering and other noises bled into their perceptions. As the minutes dragged by the sounds grew louder and the trees density thinned out. Vaas' stomach knotted as the lights of the town became brighter and brighter. His hazel eyes widened in awe. He'd never seen such a large collection of buildings. A long dirt road split through the town, connecting at least thirty various sized shacks at either side of it. A lot of the old buildings were plastered with signs and wares. Without warning, Tane turned to him, giving him his usual stuck up sneer,

"Go on then," he gestured to the town, "We will wait here."

"... Why?" was all he could manage to say, Paau rolled his eyes,

"You want to prove yourself to be a real man?" Vaas narrowed his eyes, "Go and take something from them." Tane's eyes searched the wooden buildings curiously, tracing over the few merchant stalls until his eyes rested on a small table with a selection of animal skins and a few blades.

"Take one of those knives," Tane pointed, pulling Vaas under his arm. Sensing his reservations, Paau piped up,

"We've all done it," he stated very matter-of-factly, "But if it's too hard..."

"No," Vaas shoved Tane away and made sure to stand tall, "I can do that." And with just a moment's pause to mentally prepare himself he strode out of the trees towards the town, desperately trying to ignore the titters of his friends behind him.

Vaas' eyes traced the edges of the buildings as he wandered sheepishly into the lights of the town. His mind was full of panic as he tried to appear calm and collected, knowing full well the boys were watching him like hawks. He couldn't help but notice that the earth beneath his bare feet was hard and compacted, not unlike his little village. As he made his way towards the skin salesman, his attention was brought to an old and battered box propped up on the corner of one of the tiny wooden verandas. With a quick glance behind him to make sure he was out of line of sight of his friends, he cautiously made his way closer to it. His eyes widened as he got closer to the glass screen, the voice of men bubbling out of the dented speakers. His mind recalled memories of his mother telling him about the outside world, the things that seemingly everyone in the world but the Rakyat possessed. Vaas stood there, his eyes fixated on the flickering black and white image of a large man kicking in a door and opening fire on a room full of seated men. In that moment his soul was captivated. There plastered over the dusty glass was a warrior, a warrior not halted by injury or obstacles. There was a hero. As the man opened his mouth to speak, Vaas' eyes narrowed, not understanding a word of what was said. The young boy frowned, his enjoyment somewhat ruined by his lack of understanding.

"Do you like it?" a voice snapped him from his trance. He turned quickly in the direction of the voice to see a young girl maybe a year younger than he was. Her face lit up with a warm smile, she clasped her hands behind her back and waited for a reply.

"I, uh," he turned to look at the screen once more, "Yes, but I can't understand what they're saying."

"Oh this one," she murmured, leaning closer to the strange box, "This one is about a guy that goes to fight a bunch of people who are trying to take over the world by mind control. It's called 'Furia Heroica'. My dad gets a lot of Spanish movies come in." Spanish movies, he thought, mama would know about that. "I'm Kayla," she smiled, extending her hand for him to shake.

"I am Vaas..."

"I help my dad out here sometimes," she boasted, "He's not good at being a salesman."

"Are there many more Spanish movies?" he said, not taking his eyes of the screen.

"Oh yeah," she laughed and gestured to a dusty crate full of tapes, "Dad has a truck load of them." Vaas said nothing and nodded. "Where did you come from? I haven't seen you here before." he paused, tearing his attention away from the box and uttering the Rakyat word for 'home'. "Is it far from here?"

"A little but, uh," he looked past her towards the stall of animal skins. "It's far enough to walk." Kayla turned, peering out into the night,

"You walked all the way here? By yourself?" he merely nodded in response, his eyes being drawn to the faint glimmer of the blades not thirty yards from him. "Wow, that's brave." Vaas turned his attention to her,

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I'd be too scared of all the animals biting my head off!" Vaas, despite himself, couldn't help but smile.

"... I suppose," he muttered, feeling a swell of pride bubbling up within him.

"Kayla," a man's voice seemed to make her jump,

"It was nice meeting you," she smiled politely and waved good bye to the young boy. With one last look at the screen and a deep breath, Vaas decided it was time to stop putting off his task. The stabbing of worry in his stomach became more and more intense as he grew closer. His eyes bored into the man leaning back in his chair behind the table. He breathed a sigh of relief; the man appeared to be dosing off. His feet silently pushed him towards his destination. With a quick glance to make sure no-one was looking, he reached out cautiously, his heart pounded in his chest as his finger tips brushed the cool metal of the stout blade. As quickly as he could, he snatched it from the table surface and turned on his heels to run. His body shook as he tore through the town with the blade clutched tightly in his fist. If he'd had the courage to look behind him he would have seen that nothing had changed. Vaas' body ached as he stumbled to a halt under the cover of darkness. He gasped for breath and waited for the shouts to begin—yet none came. Tane snatched the skinning knife from his hands and uttered a hushed laugh,

"Well, you did take it."

"Not very graceful of you to run like that." Vaas opted to remain silent for fear of inciting another few scathing comments.

"Come on, let's sneak back before anyone notices we have gone." With one last longing look at the town behind him he pressed forwards following his friends back home.

The next morning, much to Vaas' surprise, the sun rose just as any other day. He had lain awake fretting about the repercussions of his excursion, coupled with the awed feeling he had gotten from watching the 'Spanish movie'. His adolescent mind had studied it with such fervour, such admiration—it was nearly all he could think about. Not long after Citra had awoken, they had gone to greet their parents and wished their father luck on his hunting trip. Vaas watched as Citra ran to her mother whose arms were outstretched ready for her.

"Go and play with Vaas," she said warmly, kissing the top of her daughter's head. He smiled as his sister bounded over to him and gestured to the shade,

"Go and play with Chanah and Mika, I need to talk to mama."

"Are you ill, brother?" Citra's voice was riddled with worry, "You do not look well. You might be sick."

"I think I should ask mama if I'm ill." She nodded in agreement and trundled over to her friends, leaving Vaas alone in front of their home.

Elsa pottered about the small living room, sweeping dust and dirt up in her hands and leaning out the window to release it.

"Mama?" her son's voice ventured,

"What is it, my little one?" Her voice was always so soothing with her children, the joy that their presence gave her was all too evident within it. Behind her, she heard Vaas shuffling about nervously. With a small knot beginning to form in her gut she turned, "Is everything all right, Vaas?" He clutched one of his arms, visibly made uncomfortable by her question.

"Mama, I want to ask you something..." Elsa's brow knitted in confusion and worry,

"Of course, little one." Vaas turned, risking a quick look over his shoulder and made his way over to his mother's side.

"You are Spanish, aren't you, mama?" Elsa stopped and nervously began nibbling at the inside of her lip,

"... I _was_, Vaas. Now I am Rakyat like you."

"You know how to speak Spanish, right mama?"

"Of course, but-" she shook her head trying to think of what he might be getting at, "Vaas, why do you ask?"

"I want to know what..." he stared upwards, as if scanning his mind for the right words, "'Furi a Heroic' means." The pang of worry in her abdomen swelled as she tried to piece together what he was saying,

"Furia Heroica?" she corrected, feeling eerily removed from the conversation, "... Where did you learn that? Where did you hear those words?" Vaas' silence made her nerves stand on end,

"If I tell you, you can't get angry at me, mama."

"Vaas, _please._"

"... I went to the town last night."

"_Vaas_," Elsa breathed out, feeling dizzy with uneasiness, "Do you have any idea how much of a bad idea that was?"

"I know, mama," he urged, "Please do not be angry with me," her long pause made him squirm under her gaze, "I'm sorry I went. You _can't_ tell papa."

"No, I will not, as long as you're honest with me, Vaas, who taught you those words?"

"A girl, called Kayla. Her and her papa have a bunch of Spanish movies and I saw one of them. But I couldn't understand any of it, but it looks wonderful. There was a big strong warrior in it and..." his voice trailed off. Elsa focused on the girl's name for a moment before shaking her head wearily, "I wanted," he paused, unsure of how to progress, "I just want to know what they're saying. Can you help me, mama?" It was Elsa's turn to check her surroundings.

"I don't think I will be of any use, little one. It has been a long time since I have spoken it..." she half-lied, hoping he would lose interest.

"Mama, please, I want to see more Spanish movies." Elsa began chewing fiercely at her lip, her mind recalling memories still very painful to her. The first time she had spoken Spanish to her children, Hunapo had been beside himself with rage.

"Vaas, I am not sure-"

"Mama," he begged, "_Please _tell me how to speak it." Elsa looked away, out of the corner of her eye she could see her son staring up at her. After a long pause, she let out a defeated sigh, she couldn't say no to her son. Her nerves flared as images flashed through her mind of Hunapo finding out about her son's secret lessons. With all her heart, she hoped her husband wouldn't find out.

"Vaas," she started, her voice low, "I will teach you..." His hazel eyes lit up with hope,

"Really?" he followed her lead, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Only on one condition, my darling."

"Of course, mama, anything."

"Your father can never know."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

After the first few weeks of teaching him her native tongue, the two were able to hold a brief and simple conversation. The sound of the old words soothed her ears as they spoke, the nostalgia washing over her and bringing back fond memories of her home across the seas. Of course, there had been the underlying dread she had felt, but her son's happiness always managed to find a way to cover it up—to cradle her shaken conscience.

Elsa sat on the wooden floor facing her dear son.

"Hola! ¿Cómo estás?" she said slowly, a small smile spread across her face.

"Muy bien, gracias. ¿Y tu?" he replied. A swell of pride made her smile turn into a large grin. He was certainly getting the hang of it, she had thought.

"Estoy bien, gracias. ¿Cuantos años tienes?"

"Soy," he paused, pursing his lips as he scoured his mind for the right words, "Soy_... _años..." he let out a frustrated breath, "Eleven...?" she shot him a reassuring smile,

"You say 'Soy once años'." He repeated it slowly and shot her a boastful smirk. "Yo estoy orgulloso de ti. I think that is enough for today, my darling." Elsa peered over at the door, "Go and play with your sister."

"Yes mama." Elsa rose to her feet and dusted off her clothing, her mind humming with warmth at her son's abilities.

"There you are, my son," Hunapo's voice made her blood run cold, "I have been looking for you."

"Hunapo, I did not know you where searching for him," she stuttered, glancing back and forth between her son and her husband. She had had no idea that he was still in the village. Oh, if he had caught us, she thought, her body trembled in his presence. "I thought you were out hunting."

"My son," he knelt before his child, "Today is a very important day for you." Vaas remained quiet, not daring to say a word. "Come, follow your father." Hunapo turned and exited his home, not once looking back to make sure his son was behind him.

Young Vaas walked along loyally behind his father, the whole time his mind raced, wondering what on Earth he could be planning for him. His lips opened to speak, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Hunapo stopped, resting against the old vehicle before him and turned to his son, motioning for him to climb aboard. Vaas' stomach knotted and he obeyed.

"Papa!" Citra's voice met his ears, he looked up to see her bounding over to the side of the vehicle. The young girl stopped, resting her hands on the side of the door, "Where are you going, papa?" Hunapo turned to look down at her, a soft hint of a smile on his face,

"I am going to help your brother, little one." Citra's bright blue eyes widened in surprise, she focused on Vaas,

"Brother, I know you will do well!" she beamed. Citra paused for a moment before reaching up and tugging on her brother's shirt, urging him quietly to move closer to her, "Do not worry," she whispered, "You are the strongest warrior I know." Vaas leaned back sporting a sad smile. Citra had always done that for him—always comforted him when he needed it most. It was strange to him, how his beloved sister always knew the right words to use and almost exactly how he had felt, no matter what the situation. The roar of the engine snapped him from his trance and before he knew it, they were on their way.

Vaas couldn't deny that he was terrified about being taken away by his father. He hated the fact that he was afraid, knowing that if his father had even the slightest suspicion of his fear, he would not be pleased. His father had always had such grand tales surrounding him, history of his feats of strength and courage were known by every Rakyat on the island. How could he ever compete with that, he wondered. The young boy had never felt strong enough, never felt _good_ enough to deserve the role he had been assigned. No matter how much he struggled to be a worthy son, it felt like in his father's eyes, he was nothing but a disappointment.

The blazing orange of the setting sun poured through the cracks in the thick mass of leaves above them. The harsh stutter of the Jeep coming to a shaky halt was the only noise to meet their ears. Vaas' eyes traced over the undergrowth before him, searching desperately for the reason his father had brought him there. He started out in silence as he saw his father hop out of the vehicle out of the corner of his eye. With all his heart he wanted to ask what he was up to, to simply turn and ask why he was there, but he just couldn't pluck up the courage. The sound of metal grazing metal made his hair stand on end; the glint of a blade to his side made his body run on auto pilot. Without a sound, the boy spun around to see his father standing beside him, as stoic as ever. Vaas could feel his heart pounding in his chest and a cold sweat beginning to form on his back. This was it, he thought, his father had finally had enough of his weakness and was going to put an end to it once and for all. Hunapo turned the blade, raising his other hand to run a finger across its sharp edge.

"Papa," he finally managed to say, "What-"

"_I, my son,_" his voice made Vaas shake with how stern it was, "_am going to teach you how to be a man._" Vaas paused, not daring to take his eyes off the knife for even a moment,

"_I-_" he took in a short gasp of air, "_I-_"

"_Get out._" Hunapo turned his back on his son, Vaas' legs moved of their own accord, the shakiness in them made him stumble into the dry earth. His father turned, holding the machete out by its blade so he could grasp the handle. After a few moments, he let out an angry breath and shoved it into the young boy's face. Vaas tried desperately to stop his hand from quivering as he reached out, his hands brushing the rough wood. Without waning, Hunapo dropped it into his son's hand making the boy stumble. Vaas held it up for a moment, shocked at how heavy it was. "_This is now your blade,_" he stated coldly, as if reading a script. "_It will become an extension of you; your enemies will be slain by you and your blade._" He glanced between his father and the machete. He had been told many a time of the honoured Rakyat tradition of slaying your foes with a blade—it was the only honourable way to kill an enemy. Vaas stopped, a pang of fear welling up from within him as a single thought pushed itself to the front of his mind,

"_Papa,_" he tried to say, "_You... you want me to-_"

"_Of course not,_" he spat, "_You will kill no-one until I have decided you are ready, and my son,_" he paused, taking a moment to stare him in the eyes, "_You are not ready._" The young boy had to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief, "_Today, you will learn how to kill an animal._"

"_An animal, papa?_" Hunapo took a few steps forward, ignoring his son's words and peering thoughtfully into the greenery,

"_I was a little younger than you when I killed my first beast_," a nostalgic smile tugged at his harsh features, "_I made my father and the Rakyat very proud_," his eyes bored into his son's, "_And that is what you will do today._" Vaas stared down at the machete, watching it try as hard as it could to catch a glint of the dwindling sunset. All he had ever wanted was to make his father proud and if proving he could hunt was what his father wanted, so be it.

"_All right, papa..._" he said softly, mentally forcing himself to speak louder "_I-I am ready._"

After about half an hour of prep talk from his father, Vaas was sent on his way into the jungle clutching tightly at his machete. It took every ounce of willpower in his little body to force himself to stop shaking. With a small glance back at his father, he pushed through the leaves and branches, making his way out into the night.

Vaas' mind raced and his legs threatened to give way underneath him as he crept onwards. The sounds of chirping insects rattled him, shaking his train of thought from his father's advisory words. With a deep breath to steady himself, he lowered himself into a crouch. His fingers brushed the earth gently as he had seen his father do several times. He wasn't exactly sure _why_ his father did that, but it had always seemed to tell him something he needed to know. The young boy's eyes stared upwards at the barely visible night sky; it was so dark, he could barely see the nose in front of his face. Vaas chewed the inside of his lip nervously as the reality of the situation sank in. Kayla's words flashed back into his mind, making his imagination flare up. He turned and peered into the darkness, waiting for a horrific monster with red eyes, or even worse, one of the demons to burst out from the shadows and devour him whole. With a small grunt, he shook his head in an attempt to shake the fearful thoughts free. The machete caught a quick flash of moonlight as he slammed it into the earth. He clutched his face with his free hand, he furiously urged himself to get a grip, to force himself to grow up and complete his task. For a few moments, he imagined his father's face if he returned, carrying the largest buck he could find to his father, how he would glow with pride for his achievement. A soft rustle of leaves snapped him back to the moment. With all his energy, he forced himself to be brave, to turn and face the direction of the noise all the while reminding himself of his daydream to urge himself on. His fingers wrapped tightly around the coarse wood of the blade's handle, he took a deep breath and compelled himself to walk onwards. It could have been hours since he stared following the sounds, but his mind was focused, replaying the image of his father scooping his quarry up into his arms and finally saying the words he'd always wanted to hear. The young boy's mind looped through the fantasy as he wandered, making his mind stray from the task at hand. He was so preoccupied by the thought, he didn't even notice the drop before him. Vaas stepped forward and cried out in horror as his foot fell through what he thought was solid earth. His arms shot out, frantically trying to grasp something solid to grab onto, but to no avail. The heavy clang of his machete hitting the ground made him scream again into the still night air. Vaas hit the ground hard, the impact of it made his head spin. He felt as if his lungs had been crushed as he took in short, sharp gulps of air trying as hard as he could to draw breath. The blind panic and adrenaline had been torn from him as he hit the earth, leaving him lying in the dark, sobbing in fear and pain. A slow and gentle trickle of liquid heat down his neck made him choke. Reaching out gingerly, his fingers brushed the wound on the back of his head, making his body scream out in agony and panic.

"_Papa!_" he shouted out into the silence, his mind flashed with terror as the sickening realisation hit him: there was no way his father would ever hear him. "Mama," the young boy wept, the feeling of absolute hopelessness filled his soul. Seconds passed like hours as he lay there sobbing, his entire body ached and he felt like if he dared try to move, his body would fall apart. After an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching. Vaas knew for sure it was a demon coming to take him away and shut his eyes tightly, dreading it's approach. The footsteps stopped beside him; his heart was beating so fast he feared it would wake the dead. After a few agonising moments, he slowly opened his eyes and peered up at the figure standing over him. "Papa," he muttered weakly, the fear he felt seemed to be drowned in shame as he stared up at his father. As quickly as he could manage, he tried to dry his eyes. Hunapo didn't say a word, he didn't even change his expression as his eyes traced over the boy's battered body. Silently, he turned, keeping his gaze fixed on his son and reached down to pick up his machete. "Papa, I was hunting a big buck," he couldn't help but tell a small lie, of course he hadn't had the faintest idea of what he was following but he felt he needed to at least prove he was following _something_, "And..." his voice trailed off as he noticed Hunapo's disapproving scowl. Much to his surprise, Hunapo remained silent, which in a strange way, made him feel even more shameful. Vaas hurriedly wiped his eyes again and tried to stand. The horrible swell of pain made him stumble as he rose. He shot a quick glance at his father, worrying he had seen his shaking and tried to stand tall. Hunapo waited until his son had stood up properly before simply shaking his head and turning to walk back to his vehicle. Vaas' stomach knotted and he lowered his head as he followed his father back, all the time wishing he would say something.

The ride back home was heartbreaking for the poor child, his father remained deathly quiet the whole way, seemingly unaware of his own son's presence. All the colour drained from his dear mother's face as Hunapo had dragged him inside their little shack. Hunapo pointed, giving his son a silent order to be seated and simply turned to the door, leaving the two alone.

Elsa's face twisted into a worried and haunted stare as she watched her husband take his leave. There was no doubt in her mind he was furious with her poor son. She looked down, focusing on the wound on the back of her little boy's head and let out a deep sigh.

"My poor little Vaas," she whispered to herself as she gathered up some pieces of clean linen to tend to him. His silence made her heart ache, what could she possibly say to him? "Out in the wars again."

"I-I fell, mama," he whispered, his voice creaking from disuse, "I was stupid and I fell."

"No, my darling," her voice was soothing and soft, "we all fall." She dabbed some of the damp cloth into the dirt-caked cut, making Vaas wince and shift in his seat.

"No," he snapped, "papa doesn't fall, papa is _invincible_." Elsa had to hold back a sob; It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair what her husband put her dear child through. No matter how hard Vaas tried, it never seemed to be good enough. She had always thought Hunapo was too harsh on him, he was only a child after all.

"My darling," she whispered, "you are young. One day, you will understand-"

"_No_, mama!" Vaas cried out, audibly holding back his tears, "Papa hates me, I'm useless and weak and I cannot even kill a stag because I-."

"_Vaas_," she hissed with barely concealed frustration, "Do not speak like that. I shall hear none of it." Elsa took in a breath to clear her mind, "You have no idea how much it wounds me to hear you say such ridiculous things. You are not old enough to understand yet." She heard her son sniffle below her, "But that is all right. One day you will, because you are my son, Vaas," Elsa moved to stand before him and placed her hands on his shoulders, "I love you, my darling little one. I love both of you with all my heart. Your father does not hate you, he only means to make you strong. He wants you to become a warrior, to be who you were born to be." Vaas' red eyes stayed focused on the dusty wood panels beneath their feet, not daring to meet his mother's eyes. "Your father..." she hesitated for a moment, "He can be a stern man, but he means only the best for you—_both_ of you," Elsa straightened her back, peering down at her darling son. Her mind went blank, if she hadn't been inside her own head, she had thought, she might have even fully believed the speech herself.

"Brother!" Citra's voice nearly made both of them leap out of their skin, "Are you all right? What happened, mama?!" the panic in her voice was all too evident. The little girl ran over to her brother's side, her eyes wide in worry, "Did you get attacked by an animal?"

"... I fell," he mumbled bitterly, the agony of his father's disdain still sticking in his mind like a splinter,

"Did something push you?"

"No."

"Your brother had an accident, Citra, that is all." Elsa chimed in, making the little girl's features relax slightly,

"Oh, my poor brother," she whispered to herself, "Do not worry, you are a strong and quick healer," Citra beamed at him, visibly making his face soften. His heartache was still obvious.

"Mama, I'm tired," he said, peering up at his mother, "can I go to bed?" Elsa remained silent and nodded in response,

"You too, Citra, it has been a long day for all of us." And with that, Elsa kissed her children good night. A warm smile tinted her features as she watched Citra take her brother's hand and lead him to his bed.

Vaas weakly shook free of his sister's grasp and clambered into bed, the wound throbbed as he lay down facing the wall. The feeling of shame made his stomach tighten as he lay there, trying to ignore Citra's eyes on him.

"... Brother," she finally said with a hushed tone, "don't feel bad. I feel terrible when you feel bad." Vaas huffily tugged his blanket over his shoulders but said nothing. "I think you were very brave," she added thoughtfully, "If I had a nasty cut like yours I would have cried and screamed until everyone was deaf." He clenched his jaw in anger, that's exactly what he did, he thought. "But you stayed strong and didn't even utter a sound. I am proud." He uttered an aggressive 'hmph'.

"I was to kill a beast and I failed," he grumbled, "No wonder papa is so ashamed of me."

"No!" Citra spat, "That is untrue." Vaas rolled his eyes in the darkness and immediately, his head ached making him wish he hadn't, "You are my big, strong brother and I am proud of you, so is mama and papa and the whole village!" Citra paused, awaiting a response, "I know one day soon you will make everyone happier and even more proud. I know so."

"Why?" he cursed under his breath.

"Because what papa said is true." Vaas couldn't help but turn slightly, his curiosity growing as each second passed, "Papa says when we're grown up we will save the Rakyat. You and me, brother. I know that the visions would never lie to papa, or anyone," she paused, "One day, you will be stronger than papa and you will be a hero for all of us."

"A hero..." he breathed.

"Vaas?" she ventured, "You are _my_ hero." The room fell silent as he mulled over her words, a small spike of warmth began to flicker in his heart. "Goodnight, brother." Vaas didn't reply, instead opting to hold onto the small glimmer of hope she had given him. He was going to become strong, for his sister, for his father and mother, for everyone.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The sun beat down relentlessly, covering the little island in a searing heat. The glare of the midday sun was unbearable; the green flashes off the humid jungle leaves threatened to blind those who dared cast their eyes its way. A blistering wind made its way through the trees and shrubs, making them sway back and forth lethargically. The soft rustle of it met the curious ears of a young man knelt in the undergrowth. With only a moment's pause to analyse the sounds the wind had brought, he turned his attention to the front once again. He took in a slow, deep breath, making his ears shake with the noise. It took nearly all of his concentration to remain still, to keep his mind blank. Stiffly, he leaned closer to the earth, taking a moment to caress the dirt with his fingers. His nerves screamed as the sound of movement met his ears. His hazel eyes snapped back and forth, scouring the greenery for a sign of another presence. The moment dragged on forever as he held his breath, mentally urging whatever was with him to move once more, to give its position away. A soft 'clunk' behind him made him spin around, clutching the hilt of his blade. The young man held his breath once more, trying desperately to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest. Just as before, the trees and shrubs remained vacant, making the swell of dread in his stomach churn and bubble up. The next thing he knew, he was slammed into the solid earth staring up at the sky above him.

"_Nice reflexes!_" a familiar voice mocked him in his tribe's native tongue, "_Do_ y_ou see that? He's shaking!_"

"Tane..." he growled under his breath, heaving himself upright. He slid the blade back into its scabbard and looked up, forcing himself to put on an unamused face. There before him stood Tane and his lackeys.

"_What's the matter, Vaas? All that training for your papa and you still can't hear Paau coming?_"

"_What are you doing here?_" Vaas said quietly rising to his feet and dusting himself off.

"Thought we'd go out and go runt hunting." Anaru teased, a hint of friendliness in his voice,

"You are hunting a little too close to town, don't you think?" Tane pointed past him, Vaas turned back, fighting to keep the small smile a bay. He couldn't help but feel somewhat clever about the whole thing, how he would wander off in the morning to train and maybe catch a movie or two from behind a building when he felt like taking a break—amongst other things.

"I suppose," he muttered thoughtfully, proud that he seemed unwavering in his apathy towards Tane and his friends, no matter how annoyed he was that they had managed to sneak up on him. Tane smirked back at him, stroking his abysmal excuse for a beard with is fingers, "So," he rested his wrist on the hilt of his machete, "What is it that you want?"

"Citra said that Hunapo the Brave wanted you." Vaas uttered a mirthless chuckle to hide his fear,

"Why?" Tane simply shrugged. Vaas took in a short breath through his nose and nodded, "All right, I will not be long," he mumbled to himself.

"Don't get used to this," Paau warned, "If we get sent out after you again, there will be trouble."

"It's not like we don'tt have anything to do ourselves..."

"Fine, all right," Vaas snapped, "But next time, send my sister to tell me."

Citra was worried, it had been quite some time since she had asked Tane to fetch her brother for her. Chanah sat behind Citra, braiding her hair carefully,

"_More please,_" Mika smiled up at the future saviour, "_What happened then?_"

"_Then,_" Citra resumed her story, "_after the spider's wife had been scorned by her husband, she waited._" Mika's bright eyes stared up at her, completely lost within the tale, "_She waited for him to come back that night, praying to her deity for the strength she required to teach him a lesson. And after he had fallen asleep, she rose from their bed and watched him. She would have killed him in his sleep, but that would not do, the spider's wife thought, he must suffer for her pain._" Citra smiled gently down at the younger girl, "_The beautiful spider's wife spun her silk, tying her wretched husband to their bed and woke him. She stared into his eyes so he would know why he deserved such a fate before rearing back, her fangs revealed as she finally enacted-_" she stopped, catching sight of her dear brother emerge from the trees at the far end of the village. A contented smile spread over her lips as her eyes traced over him.

"Citra?" Mika's voice bled into her consciousness, "_What then?_"

"_I am sorry, Mika, I must speak with Vaas._" She rose to her feet and hurried over to her brother's side leaving Chanah and her sister somewhat bewildered by the jarring departure.

Citra kept her eyes on her dear brother as she approached him, her eyes shone with the happiness of seeing him again. Her mind wandered along with her eyes, he had grown up so well, she had thought. Truly, he was becoming the warrior she had always known he would be. With her help, she knew that no matter what they would always stand together against any adversary and against any troubles that their beloved people could possibly encounter. Every day she cast her gaze on him, he appeared to be growing stronger. It made her heart soar how he left every day as the sun rose to wander through the trees and danger just to better himself. He was becoming a man now and he was certainly beginning to look the part, from his broad shoulders to the black stubble forming on his chin.

"Citra," Vaas smiled warmly at her as she approached. His gaze faltered slightly as she stood beside him. Citra knew he felt uncomfortable that she was nearly as tall as him, no matter how much she had reassured him that females grew quicker and that one day he would tower over her. "I heard father is looking for me," he stated, avoiding her gaze.

"My dear brother," she said softly, "I am sorry but I lied to you." Vaas' brow knitted as his eyes traced her face for something to give away her meaning. "I wanted to speak with you and I thought that if I mentioned to Tane that father sought you, you would be home faster." Her blue eyes remained fixed on him as he shook his head in evident aggravation.

"Citra, the next time, just-" he hissed sharply before letting out a guilty breath, "Please just tell me if you want to speak to me, hm?"

"Of course."

"What is this about?" she noted his uncomfortable shift.

"Are you all right, brother?" he merely nodded, "... I just wished that we could speak together as we used to."

"Of course, Citra." Another fidget, she thought, "Not for too long, if you do not mind. I want to get back to hunting."

"Brother, I admire you." Vaas walked in step as she lead him over to stand under the shade of a nearby tree. "You never run out of vigour. Every day is the same; I am so proud of you."

"I do what I need to to become strong," he avoided her stare nervously, "I'm not as strong as you would think—I know I need to push myself for father," he paused, "and you and mama." Citra had always known Vaas felt as if their father was ashamed of him, but she could see it for what it was. Their father was a tactless man, this much was true, but he wanted the same thing as she did, for both herself and her beloved brother to fulfil their potential.

"I think that father is impressed by your tenacity."

"It's not meant to impress him."

"I cannot see how your actions are anything other than impressive," she cooed.

"Citra, please," he stopped to collect his thoughts, "It is what's needed of me, and that's it."

"But after all of your efforts-"

"Citra,_ please_. I do not want any praise," he swallowed hard, "You don't need to do this for me." Citra leaned back, her blue eyes boring through him. Citra was the daughter of the leader of the Rakyat, she could feel the souls of their ancestors swirl in the evening wind, whispering their secrets to her, she had been chosen to lead her people into victory and above all else, she was no fool.

"Brother, what troubles you?" She watched him stare out into the trees and received no answer. As much as she loved her brother she would have to just let his wrestle with his issue, she thought, or at least, that's what she _should_ do. He didn't appear to want to open up to her at that moment, but that was all right, she knew that soon he would.

"All right, Vaas," she rested her hand on his shoulder, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. You will when you are ready." Vaas nodded in response before stretching,

"I am going back out," he shot her a small smile, "I will not be long, so don't worry for me."

"Of course I won't, brother," she smiled broadly at him as she watched him take his leave. With a soft sigh she wandered over to her little home, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see if her brother had left yet. Curiosity gnawed at her as she entered the kitchen, as much as she had tried to reassure Vaas and herself she couldn't help but feel the need to know. She wanted to protect her brother no matter what, even if it was to protect him from himself.

"Oh, my little Citra," Elsa smiled sweetly up at her daughter from the kitchen floor before noting Citra's somewhat worried expression, "What is on your mind, darling?"

"It is nothing mother," her voice trailed off, "It's just..."

"What?"

"... I think something is troubling Vaas."

Vaas hurriedly made his way back towards the little town, his mind racing with urgency. He'd been away too long, he thought, his opportunity was lost. He staggered to a halt and leaned on his knees, sucking in huge gulps of air to try and calm his exhausted body. After a few moments, he decided he was ready to continue. With a deep and stern breath, Vaas slowly made his way towards the little town, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the collection of buildings. A soft pang of worry stabbed at his stomach as he forced his legs to move from under him.

"Hey," a girl's voice made his mind explode in panic, instinctively he grabbed at his weapon before his gaze settled on the voice's owner—that was the second time he'd allowed himself to be crept up on. With a frustrated exhale he relaxed his shoulders,

"Do not do that to me."

"What are you doing creeping around here for?" she teased playfully before taking a few steps through the leaves to join him.

"I was just out hunting and I thought I should take a break." She poked him,

"Looks like you should, you're about to fall over." Vaas uttered a nervous laugh,

"Hunting's a pretty serious task, Kayla." He turned and started walking further into the thicket, "It can be very stressful—_dangerous_, even." She smiled and met his pace.

"Don't know why you came today..." Vaas raised his eyebrows curiously, "No new movies until next month, remember?"

"Oh," he paused, feeling pretty silly, "Yeah...Well, maybe we could go for a walk or something?" Kayla half shrugged at him,

"Sure, why not." Vaas smiled to himself and continued walking onwards with Kayla following closely behind.

Just before the sun set, the two teenagers had departed. Vaas had escorted Kayla back to the outskirts of her small town. The thought of returning home was never an easy one for the young man, especially because he was a fraud. Over the last year, his father had finally allowed him to venture out on his own, unaware that his son's intentions weren't what he thought. Vaas had meant to train, he had meant to practice and hone his tracking and hunting skills, but the lure of alien cultures were simply too much of a temptation. It felt that his father had tried to blind him, hide him from the outside world and all the wondrous things it had to offer. Vaas would sneak around the outskirts of the little town day after day in order to try and sneak a peak at the movies Kayla's father owned. Anything to catch a glimpse of this new and enormous world he knew nothing about. The soft and indistinct chatter of his village met his ears as he carried on walking. It was strange, everything he had grown with seemed so dull and simple compared to what he saw on the dirty television screen. Without a word, the young man walked into his home, removing his sheathed blade from around his waist and hanging it beside the door frame. His eyes traced around the adjacent hanger where his father's rifle rested and his heart sank. Hunapo had explained to Vaas on only one occasion, that when he believed his son to be a man, when he had proved that he didn't need a firearm, then he would be allowed to have his own for hunting—not for the smiting of Rakyat enemies. Bullets were a coward's tool, his father had said, a true warrior uses a blade to end an enemy's life.

"Vaas," his mother's voice made his thoughts shatter. He spun around and breathed a sigh of relief that his father was nowhere in sight. "Are you all right, my darling?" she smiled warmly, carefully taking a seat in front of the little wooden table before her.

"Yes, mama, I was just," he risked a glance over his shoulder, "It's been along day." Elsa motioned for her son to join her, his hazel eyes studied her face. She had looked so worn down recently, so tired. With a careful shake of his head to wipe the thoughts from his mind, he sat down opposite her. "Where is father?" he ventured, hoping her reply would soothe his guilty conscience.

"He took Citra to the old temple." Vaas hung his head slightly, he couldn't say he was surprised. Citra had always been the favoured one, the one who understood exactly what their father wanted and delivered it with a smile on her face. "You look troubled, Vaas." she said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his knee, "Are you pushing yourself too hard?" he shook his head, uttering a humourless laugh,

"I wouldn't say so..." Elsa watched him closely, plunging the room into a dreadful silence. Vaas sat waiting for a reply for what felt like forever before he finally dared to look upon his mother. Her face had twisted into a curious stare, her eyes drilled into him making him shift under her gaze. A small all knowing smile crept over her tired features, "What?" his confusion only added to her delight, turning her smirk into a coy grin.

"Is it a girl that is giving you troubles?" Vaas was taken aback, a mixture of panic, anger and shock tinted his features,

"I—what?" he cursed himself inwardly at the heat floating around his cheeks.

"You cannot lie to your mother, Vaas." He pursed his lips and avoided her eyes, opting to try and stare a hole in the wooden floor. He tried to weigh up the options in his mind, on one hand, he could lie to her and carry on as normal, or he could admit that a girl was involved. The young man was confused about Kayla. He seemed fascinated with her, going to town everyday for a glimpse of the outside world and the girl who linked him to it. He wasn't sure why he did the things that he was compelled to but he did them anyway, no matter how hidden his motives were, even to him.

"I don't know," he replied flippantly, forcing himself to fold his arms and sit back in the chair trying to give off the air that he was disinterested in the question. Elsa beamed at him,

"_I just want you to be happy, Vaas. Tell me her name,_" she whispered in Spanish, instantly making him relax. Vaas eyed her for a moment,

"_I don't know, mama..._" he met her tone. His thoughts were riddled in worry, the thought that his father could find out what he had been doing made him clam up. As if reading his thoughts, his mother leaned forwards, resting her arms on the rough wooden surface.

"_You know,_" she took in a haggard breath, "_All those years ago, when I first met your father-_" Elsa stopped herself, letting out a soft chuckle and shaking her head, "_I was an outsider._"His hazel eyes met hers, the curiosity in them seemed to beg her for more information, "_The thing was, my darling, I had always been plain old Elsa Montenegro. My life was quiet and uneventful. Then I met your father..._"Elsa leaned back, her eyes tracing over memories long since past, "_He was and still is the strongest man I have ever known. He was the leader of a powerful yet small tribe and I had never met anyone like him._" Vaas noted the small flicker of melancholy on his mother's face, "_And now, I am one of his people, just as you are. You see,_" she placed her hands over one of his, "_It does not matter where we come from, my darling Vaas, it's what we choose to become._"

"_You chose to become one of us,_" he stated,

"_Of course, I loved your father._"

"_Mama,_" he let out an awkward laugh, "_You're talking very seriously..._"

"_I'm sorry, Vaas,_" she smiled, "_All I am saying is that whoever you choose to give your heart to, they will be welcome here. Just as I was._" He simply shrugged, making Elsa's grin fade, "_Vaas?_" she cleared her throat, "_Please remember I am your mother._" His brow knitted in confusion, "_I want you to feel comfortable talking to me. About anything, my darling. Your secrets will always be yours. No matter what, I will always be here to listen._"

"_I know..._" Elsa shot him her best smile and rubbed his arm.

"_Now if you'll excuse me, I have to help Ani prepare dinner_."

Not long after Hunapo and Citra returned from their trek, Elsa had brought over her family's meal. Citra sat down beside her brother, nattering about the beautiful carvings and the rich heritage of their people. Vaas had remained silent, offering an occasional nod and smile when his sister had paused in her rambling. He'd never seen the old temple and honestly, he doubted that he'd ever be allowed to. Throughout the entirety of their meal, Vaas had felt his father's eyes on him and the thought of saying anything that could be misconstrued terrified him more than he would ever care to admit. He kept his eyes down, focusing on his meal and fighting with his body to appear as relaxed as he could manage. And finally, just as the family were heading back into their home, the moment he was dreading so fearfully came.

"My son," Hunapo's voice was unnervingly stern, "I want to speak with you."

Vaas could do nothing but stand there before his father, his wide eyes staring up at him. The words coming out of his mouth seemed muffled to his ears. If he dared take his eyes off him, he was sure he'd run. For a moment, he even toyed with the idea. Vaas recalled a movie he had seen about a young boy who ran away from home and managed to make it work out very well for himself. Then, the words he had hoped foolishly never to hear met his ears. It felt surreal at first, the moment that had agonised and fretted about in his quiet times were finally being said to him. His world stopped, time seemed to stand still as he peered up at his father. The young man's head moved of its own accord as it nodded at his father's order. A heavy hand slammed down onto his shoulder, tearing his eyes away from his father's, and with a slow nod, it was over. Vaas' legs moved under their own volition, carrying him into the little house. Without a glance to his family inside, he found himself in his and Citra's bedroom. Without a thought, he simply lay down on his stomach and faced the wall.

Citra followed her dear brother into their room, her head cocked to the side as she stared down at him. It was probable, she thought, that whatever his problem was earlier, it must have escalated.

"Brother?" she whispered, sitting herself down on her bed opposite his, "What is the matter?"

"Father wants me to go hunting with him tomorrow to show him what I've learned." Citra smiled broadly, the surge of pride within her stomach burned bright.

"Oh that is wonderful," she giggled to herself, "Why does this sadden you?"

"I hope I do well," his voice was low and devoid of emotion.

"Vaas," Citra wandered over to his side of the room and sat beside him, placing her hand on his bare arm. "I love you." He remained silent. Her fingers gently stroked his flesh, making him snatch his arm away. Citra's brow knitted in worry and aggravation, "You are a warrior," she stated, "Soon, you will be deemed worthy of the Tatau." Citra ran her index finger over his other arm, tracing over an imaginary tattoo.

"Citra, stop that." he hissed, brining up the blanket over his shoulders.

"Tomorrow, you will prove yourself to father."

"And what if I displease him? _Hm_? What if he-" he stopped, taking in a deep breath, "What if my efforts have been wasted? What then, Citra?" She let out a contented breath,

"Then you are not ready. Just yet." He uttered a bitter sigh, "But you shall be soon." Citra's eyes traced over his waist before placing her hand on his side, "If it is not tomorrow, it shall be soon. I can feel it, my dear brother. You will have your moment." She could just make out Vaas shaking his head mournfully in the shadows. "You may not have faith in yourself, but I do, brother," she continued, "If you are not ready, you are not ready. It's that simple."

"Citra, please leave me to rest." Without a sound she rose to her feet, the whole time keeping her eyes on him,

"... Rest well," she lowered for voice so that only she could hear it, "tomorrow will be a long day."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Vaas and his father had been wandering the island for hours. A mix of the humid air and his own sweat made his clothes cling tightly around him. This was pointless, he had thought bitterly, the moment that they would find a beast for him to slay, it would be all too apparent to his father what he had really been doing on his trips. The fear churned heavily in the pit of his stomach as he waded along through the damp leaves. Hunapo stopped suddenly.

"_This is far enough,_" he motioned to the thick jungle before him, "_I will be watching._" Vaas' blood ran cold. This was it, he thought, it was the time to stop delaying the inevitable. With a deep breath to steady himself, he ducked into a crouch and left his father there amongst the bushes.

The musty scent of rotten foliage filled his nostrils as he meandered through. With a few seconds of contemplation, he took in a large intake of breath through his nose, fighting with the panic in his mind to try and remember all his father had taught him. A soft rustle about 50 yards ahead of him made his eyes snap open; frantically, he scoured the area before him. This was it, he thought, this was the moment where he could prove himself, just as Citra had said. As carefully as he could manage, he began to creep forward, his hazel eyes opened wide hurriedly snapping back and forth over the maze of leaves and bark. Vaas stopped dead as he heard movement and for a split second, he saw something flash through the gaps in the twigs. A shaky exhale escaped his lips as he silently removed his machete from its scabbard and readied it in his hand. The dull crackles of dried leaves beneath his feet made each step absolute agony for his senses. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the mysterious creature draw a soggy breath—it was so close. Vaas stared through the undergrowth, his heart beat so fast he was frightened the animal would hear it and run. With a few short, sharp breaths, the young man's face pulled back into a snarl—he leapt out of cover towards a wild boar. He was just close enough for his fingertips to brush its back before it swiftly bolted out of the way. The shrill cries of the wild pig pierced his ear drums. He blinked hard, fighting with all his strength to get air back in his lungs and to stand. The animal's scream cut through the air, it began taking a few steps back. Vaas' heavy breaths and the boar's grunting were all that filled his ears. The young warrior readied himself, his hazel eyes burned with fury. He didn't just want to kill the damned beast, he wanted it to know who had taken its life; it was nearly all he could think about. He studied the creatures movements intently, trying as best he could to decipher what its next move would be. A white hot flash blinded him for a second as he felt the sudden impact. Dazed, he looked up, the boar's yellow tusks were mere inches from his face. The young warrior uttered a terrified cry as he wrestled with the creature, it's head flailed back and forth crazily as it fought to wound it's attacker. Vaas' hand scored the dry earth, desperately searching for his blade. When his fingers finally brushed its hilt, the hope of it filled him with a huge surge of energy. As he plunged the machete deep into the boar's neck, he let out a rage filled howl. His eyes stared deeply into that of the animal's, his bones and blood froze as he watched it's eyes drain of colour, it's very life bleeding out. Slowly, his spiteful expression melted away, leaving behind a frightful stare. The warmth of the animal's lifeblood trickled down his arms and began pooling on the earth beneath him. Vaas' heart stopped as his father's figure slowly bled into focus above him. Without a word, he clambered to his feet, pushing the quivering carcass aside. His father remained silent, and Vaas knew he didn't have to say a word. He was already painfully aware of what his father was thinking—he could _feel_ it.

The noises had finally stopped. The darkness around him cradled his still body in its velvet embrace; the silence deafened him as he stared out into the gloom. He was no fool, the voices would start again; the pauses to draw breath and gather sharper words would be over soon. The lull—however much he prayed and begged—wouldn't stop. Not yet. There was still so much ground to cover, so many different subjects to claw through. So many more wounds to inflict. The callous tones floated towards him, washing over him as he stared. The young man cradled his head in his hands as his mind replayed his father's words from all those years ago:

_You are coddling him, Elsa. I am sick of your disrespect. You are making him __**frail.**_

Vaas' shoulders shook as he clutched his head tightly. A soft whimper escaped his lips as he fought to clear his mind. The anger seethed within his stomach, churning and clotting it snaked up to his lungs where it stabbed at him, making him grit his teeth in fear and agony. The hate bubbled up from inside him causing his muscles contract and spasm. The young man trembled under the weight of his rage and shame.

"Shut..." he whispered through gritted teeth, "the fuck up." His body convulsed, his shaken mind screamed at him to stand, to intervene, yet he couldn't. The fear of it had frozen him in place. His father had been right when he had said he was weak, he was _frail_, and now his mother was on the receiving end of his father's wrath—again. No mater what he did it was never good enough. Vaas' heart stopped as he heard the door to their home slam shut, followed by a deathly silence. His eyes snapped open and he waited for another word to be uttered, yet none came. As the red mist cleared and the twitching in his body started to calm down, he turned to face the door. The silence was broken by a soft sobbing. His heart ached as he rose quietly to his feet, the hatred within him had ebbed away leaving only panic and worry. Vaas' mind raced as he carefully crept towards the door. What would he find on the other side, he couldn't help but wonder. Just as his fingertips brushed the wooden door, a voice made him stop.

"Brother," Citra's voice was low yet firm, "Stay in bed, it is none of our business." Vaas' hazel eyes stared through the darkness to where his sister's bed sat, unable to make her out in the black but he could feel her watching him. He swallowed hard and proceeded onwards into the main room. The harsh light stung his eyes, forcing him to bring up his hand to shield them. The sound of movement made him stop. When his vision had finally cleared, his eyes settled on his mother. Elsa stood with her back to him, hunched over and staring out into the village.

"Mama," he ventured, the sound of his own voice echoed through his head, "What is it?" He gingerly took a few more steps towards her, all the time expecting his father to burst out and grab him by the scruff of his neck—to throw him back into his room for daring to involve himself. His mother's sniffling made his heart heavier. Without wasting another moment, he reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. "_Mama,_" he ventured in her native tongue, "_Speak to me._" Elsa simply shook her head lethargically. With a sharp intake of breath through his nose, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. Elsa averted her gaze, clutching tightly at her shawl. "_What happened?_" Again, she responded by shaking her head. The hatred in his gut surged again, he shook her as carefully as he could manage, "_Mother,_" he leaned closer, resting his head on hers, "_If he touched you I swear will fucking-_" she pushed him away with a surprising amount of energy,

"_If I ever hear you say that again, Vaas... You know how your father and I feel about that—that language,_" she hissed through her tears. The young man studied his mother's face, the heavy bags under her eyes made her look so much older, the small cracks in her skin seemed to have grown deeper, spreading across her face like split veins. "Go to bed," she snapped, avoiding his concerned glances.

"Mama, I am sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" He knew exactly why his father had been in such a cruel mood. He had seen the aftermath of his parent's fights about him before, but never like this. His dear mother trembled like a leaf before him. Maybe it had finally happened, he thought, maybe she had finally realised that sticking up for him would only cause her grief. Vaas' heart sank as he watched his mother's eyes focus on anything but his. The well of tears began to form once again in her tired eyes and his heart could take no more. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her. As she sobbed and whimpered, he felt an icy chill tickle the back of his neck. "Shh," he whispered to her, remembering how it had calmed him when he was young, "Shh..." It felt as if something had been torn from him, deep within him in his chest, leaving a small pin hole in its place. The frosty layer of stillness slowly swept over him as he stared out into the blackness. He placed a hand on his mother's head as a sickening realisation slowly emerged from his thoughts: there was nothing he could do—there was no way out for them. They would be trapped in this father's clutches until death came for them. The young man's heart bled in despair. A pained breath escaped his lips, shutting his eyes tightly forcing a few tears to fall down his cheeks, "Shh, mama, it's okay..."

Citra's cold blue eyes remained fixed on her mother and brother. Her mind twisted around her thoughts and emotions making a flicker of a glare flash across her eyes. When she was sure there was nothing else of interest to see, she silently slid back into the darkness of her bedroom. Maybe she had been wrong, she pondered, maybe her brother _was_ weak. It didn't feel right, but the evidence before her seemed make her confidence in his strength wane. With a thoughtful breath, she lay back down, placing her hands on her stomach. No, not _her _brother—not her beloved Vaas. Her eyes idly traced the ceiling of their room as she began compiling all of the factors involved. It would never do to have her brother in such a state of frailty. Besides, she felt the power within him, she knew with all her heart that her brother would be strong, that the two of them would rule the Rakyat soon—leading them into a golden new age for their people. No, her brother mustn't be weak. If her dear father couldn't make Vaas' potential shine through, then she would just have to take the task into her own hands. No matter what the cost.


	6. Chapter 5

******AN: I wanted to give a massive thank you to the folks who've left me reviews. It means a hell of a lot to me. Seriously. :) I hope that you enjoy the rest of my story!**

**Chapter Five**

A soft, melodic laughter filled the air with a sweet and calming atmosphere. The little village below, warmed by the afternoon sun barely seemed to be occupied at all. A few of the Rakyat mothers had gone to sit outside their homes to watch their children and to enjoy the shade. A group of their daughters sat under a heavily laden tree. There, the young women sat chatting excitedly with each other. Citra sat with her legs crossed facing her two friends, half paying attention to their words and half studying them. It fascinated her—the choosing of words, the meaning behind them, and most of all, who was saying them. Her blue eyes rested kindly on her friend Chanah as she wrapped her arms around her younger sister, Mika. The sight of the village boys distracted them for a moment, making Citra smirk to herself.

"I wonder where they are going..." Chanah mused, placing her fingers on her chin. Citra couldn't help but utter a soft laugh at her friend. It was so amusing to her how she could never really think that many steps ahead of herself.

"I am sure—wherever they go—they will be up to some mischief or another."

"Shouldn't Vaas be back yet?" Mika chimed in, shooting the future leader a warm and hopeful smile.

"It _has_ been a long time..." Chanah added hurriedly. Citra tore her eyes away from her friend's, she had to admit, seeing the girl pine after her brother was surprisingly cute, if not _woefully_ misguided.

"Father's trips with Vaas have been getting longer as they go on."

"I'm sure he is doing very well," Chanah nodded, agreeing with herself. "He is very strong and he's always out training..." With a soft exhale, Citra leaned back, resting against the coarse bark of the tree behind her. It hurt her that even in the month or so after her dear brother's disastrous experience with the wild boar, he had become somewhat removed. Maybe, she had thought, that was be the beginning of his path.

"Citra?" Chanah ventured, leaning in closer, "I have heard some interesting things..." It was juvenile, but it kept her busy and most of all, made her friends happy. It was hard work being the future leader of her people, but she knew that as long as they were pleased with the way she conducted herself, they were more likely to fight for her.

"Tell me."

"I think Tane likes you, Citra." Mika blurted out, her full face lit up with the boldness of her statement. Citra's smile bloomed into a fully-fledged grin and she shook her head in disbelief.

"I suppose he is the oldest..."

"He's nice too." Mika added,

"He is indeed, little Mika but... it doesn't matter to me." she shot her friends a coy glance, "I already know the man who shall have me."

Vaas clutched his at the side of his torso tightly. The sound of pain carried through his sharp breaths.

"_Again,_" Hunapo the Brave ordered. Vaas' hazel eyes dared to risk at glance at his father. Without a word, he nodded, the throbbing in his head sparking into full-blown stabs of pain. As he rose to his full height, he let out another agonising breath and gingerly ran his fingers over the tender welt forming on the side of his face. As the young man hobbled back a few paces he cursed himself with angry bitterness. Anger at how weak he was, how much of a pitiful creature he must be to fail at even the simplest of tasks. "_You are not listening to me,_" Hunapo stated coldly, raising his fists and readying himself. With a tired exhale, the young man followed suite, bringing his fists up to his face and praying that this time he would actually be a palpable threat. "_Are you scared you will hurt me?_" his father's voice almost sounded as if he was mocking him, "I am not your father." Vaas watched him for a moment, "_Right now, I am your enemy._" Vaas had to bite his lip to stop himself from uttering a contemptuous scoff. "_I am going to kill you,_" his father's expression didn't falter, "_Or you will kill me. That is how the Rakyat fight._"

"_Yes, father._"

"_Then believe it,_" the venom present in his words made his son's blood run cold. Vaas dug his heels into the earth, his body tensed as he forced himself to stare as menacingly as he could at the Raykat's leader. Vaas wasn't going to wait for his father to attack him this time and with a fierce cry, he leapt forward, swinging his clenched fists as hard as he could. The rage exploded from within him as he watched Hunapo sway and dodge his frenzied blows seemingly without effort. A flash of red filled his vision as his father's fist slammed into his stomach. Hunapo's other hand shot out with outstretched fingers and covered the young man's face, heaving him backwards. The impact knocked all the wind out of the young warrior as he slammed into the hard earth. His heart pounded in his chest, the feeling of his skin burning through excursion, the numb aches of his father's blows made his mind shake. Vaas fought to open his eyes. His body begged and pleaded for him to stay down, to let it rest, but he couldn't. Vaas leapt to his feet as gracefully as his exhausted body would allow and began swinging before he had even gotten his bearings. He could barely see he was throwing out punches so fast. Suddenly, his fist came into contact with his father's cheek. For a moment he froze in place, wondering if he'd imagined it all. It took a split second for him to realise he had actually landed a blow on his father.

"Ha!" he cried out triumphantly and instantly wished he hadn't. Hunapo's eyes flashed in anger as they snapped back at him, making his jaw drop. And with one swift strike, Vaas was on his back once more, staring up at the sky.

"_Get up,_" he spat. The loyal son followed his order quickly, his shaky legs threatened to give out from underneath him. Vaas didn't know what to expect, his father could have congratulated him on a hit well landed, or- "_You compromise an entire fight to gloat?_"

"_I—I_," he sputtered, taken aback by his father's sneer,

"_You are not a man yet. Your actions prove this to me. It is all the evidence I need._"

"_Father, I-_"

"_Enough,_" Hunapo turned away, placing his hands on his hips. "_Do you think I enjoy this?_" Vaas' eyes hurriedly scanned the floor, as if searching for an answer, "_Do you think I want to drag you out here everyday and pummel you into the earth time after time?_" The young man swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "_Do you think I do not have anything better to do that teach you how to do something that should come so naturally?_" Hunapo paused, glancing over his shoulder before shaking his head. "_You will not let me teach you_." Vaas' eyes narrowed, the anger started to bleed back into him. How could he say that, he wondered, after all of the blood, sweat and tears, after all the effort he had watched him pour in, how could it possibly not be good enough? "_Do you know how hard this is for me, my son?_" Vaas physically flinched at the last two of his father's words. A bitter clot of resentment throbbed inside his stomach making his hands tremble under the weight of it.

"Maybe you should have kept your dick in your fucking pants then, _father,_" he seethed. Vaas' nerves screamed as his father's open palm collided with the side of his face. The young man collapsed in a heap over the brittle foliage. The spinning in his head combined with the horror at what he had dared to say made him feel as if he would throw up. His eyes flickered as he tried to get his bearings, to try and get over the devastating blow. Vaas stared at the ground, an icy sweat covered his body as he replayed the scene in his head over and over again. With all of his strength, he urged himself to remain on the ground, to keep his eyes on the dirt under him. The searing heat of his father's glare made him shiver, he slowly looked up, meeting his father's gaze. "Do not place your failures on me, _boy,_" he growled, his eyes wide and filled with an unholy rage, "I have done everything a good father can, and yet there you lay cradling your delicate body. Like a wounded dog." Vaas hung his head, the anger in his father's speech felt as if it were drowning him. "... Get out of my sight."

"Father!" Citra cooed warmly. It had been several hours since she had seen hide or hair of him; the joviality was evident in her voice. As the young woman walked over to her dear father, her eyes rested upon his swollen cheek, "Are you all right, papa?" Hunapo shot her a comforting half smile,

"I do not feel it, my dear Citra." She nodded politely at him,

"How is my brother?" Hunapo stopped in his tracks and turned to his beloved daughter. She could tell instantly that there was something troubling him. "Come papa," she carefully linked her arm in his, "Let us speak of him." Her father nodded and allowed himself to be led over to a small bench outside of their home.

Citra listened intently to her father's words as he told her about Vaas' fighting form, only occasionally hinting at his suspicions that he may never been as good a warrior as he had hoped. She frowned as he explained how he seemed to shy away from his responsibility to his people. Hunapo remained stoic throughout their conversation. Citra knew it was the mark of a good leader to be so calm and collected.

"Father," she began, taking his hand into hers, "I worry for Vaas as much as you." She looked away for a moment, "I can see the power within him. I can feel it—the strength of the Rakyat flows through his veins. I only fear that mother..." she glanced over her shoulder, trying to give the impression that she felt like she was betraying her, "That she may be halting his progress. I love mama and I know she is a good woman. I know she doesn't understand what she is doing to him..." Citra deliberately trailed off, "I am sorry, I should not be so disrespectful. As a proud Rakyat, I will respect every one of our people. For it is my sworn duty and privilege." Hunapo smiled proudly at his daughter and patted the back of her hand. "I want to help Vaas. I want to show him his true power and help him to realise his priorities."

"My little Citra," he started, "I think you are ready." Her blue eyes flashed,

"For what, father?" she feigned ignorance. With a deep inhale, Hunapo stood upright,

"Your test shall begin tomorrow. If you are to prove yourself worthy." Citra bit back a smug grin, "Then you shall receive your first mark. You shall be endowed with the power of the Tatau." She bowed her head respectfully,

"I only wish to make you all proud, father." Hunapo let out an uncharacteristic chuckle,

"That you will, Citra, that you will."

The sound of muffled speech met Vaas' ears. He had wandered forever through the muggy jungle. He forced his eyes to remain facing front in an attempt to ignore the aching welts that his father had given him. When he had started walking, he had known where to go instantly. There was no doubt in his mind that there would most likely be animosity towards him later for running off, but that would be later. For the moment, all he wanted to do was get far away from his father's wrath, to get away from himself. With a pained exhale he leaned against a tree. The disgraced warrior hunched over, his stomach was so tender it had started to make him feel ill. Maybe he should just leave, he wondered, go home and keep his head low to avoid any further spite. He peered through the foliage, his eagle eyes scouring the small town ahead of him. A gentle smile tickled the corners of his lips as he laid his eyes on her. In that moment, his eyes traced idly over her long brown hair, studying how it lay over her shoulders framing her delicate face. The two had known each other for a while now. In the last year that his father allowed him to wander out on his own—before he put a stop to it, that is—he had often waited for her in the thicket. Some days she hadn't come, some days the two had wandered down to watch some movies from afar and some days she could only stop to speak with him for a few minutes or so, but it didn't matter so much, he had thought. Carefully, he stepped out from the leaves and stood as tall as he could, keeping his eyes on her—willing her to turn around. Kayla must have caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, he had reasoned, as she turned away from her father's stall. Vaas' eyebrows knitted as he watched a back of a boy's head peek out from behind another stall. The two shared a few words before she turned, gesturing towards her father, prompting the boy to saunter over to the humble collection of wares. After a few moments, Vaas slid back into the trees and took a small rest while he was still alone. Kayla crept through the leaves a minute or two later and immediately stopped in her tracks. Her blue eyes examined his bruises, a flash of concern tainted her features,

"Are you okay?" Vaas stiffened his back and forced a shrug at her in an attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"It's nothing," he motioned to the jungle behind him, "Just thought I'd stop by after some training-"

"Training?" the excitement in her voice made him smirk. He loved that: Kayla always seemed to think his life was so daring and incredible.

"Yeah," he shot her a smug smile, "My father took me out into the wild to spar with me." Kayla took a couple of steps forwards and reached out hesitantly, brushing her fingers over the nasty bruise on his left cheek.

"Wow," she murmured, "He really did a number on you, huh?" he forced a cocky laugh, trying to ignore the heavy pang of regret inside his belly.

"You should've seen how bad _he_ came off." Kayla uttered a soft giggle and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Well, if you're on a break maybe we could..." she trailed off and shrugged. As if reading her thoughts, he nodded and turned, leading her away from the town. "I was kinda worried, you know," Kayla said softly. Vaas raised his eyebrows, a mixed expression of curiosity and pride, "I mean yeah... We've had new vids for like a month and I haven't seen you."

"You see what my training does." He stretched dramatically, showing off his aching welts, "It's hard to keep track of the time." She merely let out a quiet chuckle. With a deep breath, she came to a halt.

"Wow," she whispered peering up at the thick canopy above them. "It's so pretty here." Vaas gestured to a large boulder,

"If you want we could sit for a while," he stated coolly, trying to come off as if he wasn't needing a rest. Much to his surprise, Kayla rushed to sit down, pressing her back against the mossy rock and brining her knees up to her chest. She looked over at him for a moment and patted the earth beside her. Without any further prompting, he slumped down beside her, brushing his shoulder against hers.

"Vaas...?" she ventured, keeping her focus on the flickers of fleeting sunlight dancing through the leaves, "Could you tell me more about your training?" He narrowed his eyebrows with intrigue,

"Why would you want to know about that?"

"I don't know," she pouted, "I just don't know much about that kind of thing, is all. You're always so mysterious." He let out a soft laugh and faced front,

"I don't know," he half shrugged, trying to keep up his façade of indifference, "Just the usual things. Hunt, fight, track. Nothing special." Kayla shoved him playfully and swept some of her hair over her shoulder, resting her hand on the side of her neck,

"Oh so humble," she teased, "So tell me, mighty warrior," he beamed with pride, "Will you take me to your village one day?"

"Kayla," he laughed, forcing the embittered thoughts back, "There's nothing of interest there. Just... just a few houses and trucks."

"More than there is where _I'm_ from, and you seem to like visiting..." the tone in her voice made him smirk. He turned to her and shot her an amused expression,

"But there's no movies at home."

"You know if you spoke to my father, I bet he'd let you watch all the movies you wanted." Vaas shook his head,

"No, if my father found out..." he paused, feeling rather foolish, "Not like it'd matter, too much."

"Your dad sounds like a weird guy," she joked.

"Hm," he stated coldly, refusing to meet her gaze.

"What's he like?" Vaas' eyes wandered as he searched for the right words,

"He's just an old fucking man with his head up his ass." Kayla bit her lip, noting that she had struck a nerve, "That's why I'm training every day. He wants me to be the strongest warrior just like he was."

"Wow, he sounds..." he glanced at her, "Like an old man with his head up his ass." Vaas shrugged,

"I guess being the leader makes you that way."

"Oh cool," she cooed, "I never knew you were like... a prince or something." He knitted his brow in confusion,

"That sounds so stupid," he laughed,

"No, no," she urged, "I think it's... cute."

"Cute?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. If he didn't know better, he'd say that all his bluster actually seemed to have made quite an impression on her. "I'm not a prince. Only idiots in stupid hats are."

"Oh mighty warrior prince!" Kayla mocked him playfully, "Here cometh your pile of movies this month—use them _wisely_! Distribute them amongst your dear family and-"

"Kayla shush, I don't want to talk about my family," he forced a sweet tone.

"... Nah, me neither," she tried to play it cool. "_My_ family—God, they drive me crazy."

"Yeah," he uttered a sad laugh, "I get that." Kayla watched him for a moment before finally shuffling up a little closer to the young man. Vaas peered down at her, watching as she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the temperature out here at night... it's boiling hot and then the wind blows and freezes you solid," she stated, trying hard to avoid his glances. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, he reached over and carefully brushed some hair back over her shoulder before awkwardly placing his arm over her. To his shock, as soon as his skin brushed hers, she pushed into his embrace. His hazel eyes stayed on the collection of trees before them as he felt her place her hand on his chest and gently gather up a handful of his shirt. Vaas smiled triumphantly to himself and nodded slightly, congratulating himself for being so calm and skilful. After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Vaas turned his gaze back to Kayla. His mind raced, searching hurriedly for a plan for his next move.

"Kayla?" The young warrior fought internally against his nerves as she glanced up at him. If he had thought much about it, he would have realised that she was just as stuck for what to do as he was. For a moment, he stared down into those blue eyes of hers and said nothing. His mind screamed at him to move, for him to stop being such a coward. What would his father think, the horrible thought crossed his mind, he'd think he was even more pitiful than he already was. With a stern blink he purged the thought from his mind and focused his attention back on the young woman in his arms. Without another word, he reached out, cautiously placing his hand under her chin and raised her face to meet his. He had seen the hero in one of Kayla's movies do that and it had seemed to go down pretty well. Kayla began edging closer and Vaas followed suit. As their lips met, his mind went blank; the blissful silence in his mind soothed him as it washed all of his pain away. Vaas' hands gently snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, hoping that the moment would never pass.

As the young lovers had departed, they shared their final kiss of the evening and embraced each other tenderly. No words were needed as she left him, only the occasional glance back to the little thicket as she wandered back home. Vaas' expression was one of peace and warmth as he watched her disappear into the town. With a pleased laugh he turned away, the contentment in his heart warmed him. As if moving of their own accord, his legs began carrying him back home, his mind gleefully unaware of his destination. Vaas kept replaying the moment in his head, staring at the ground lost in his thoughts. It stuck him as so stupid now, to worry about his actions in front of Kayla. Mentally, he decided to go back and see her again tomorrow and maybe the day after that. The purity of the kisses they had shared had left him invigorated—he felt nearly indestructible. The thought of his father waiting for him to come home forced its way into his mind, trying as hard as it could to make him worry. With a shake of his head, it was gone. A relaxed breath escaped his lips as he focused his attention on his direction—he stopped dead in his tracks. His hazel eyes narrowed as he studied the figure before him, bathed in darkness. His head spun, could it be one of the demons, a wild animal, or even worse, his father? Vaas cleared his throat, uttering a deep rumble from within him. Before he could demand the figure to reveal itself fully, it stepped towards him.

"... _Citra_?" he narrowed his eyes and shot a nervous glance over his shoulder, "Citra, what are you doing here?" His stomach flipped and tied itself up in knots as she remained quiet. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. "Answer me!" he deamanded, the tight bundle of dread pounding stronger inside him. Citra stood perfectly still, her stance was straight and relaxed as usual. After a good few agonising seconds, she took in a sedated breath and opened her mouth to speak.

"Mother is dead."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The warm amber light inside the little tent soaked its surroundings. The sound of flickering flames echoed out into the night air, mingling with the soft brushing of coarse fabric on skin. Within the small tent sat a handmade table, carved from a wood as pale as death. At the head of the table stood the future leader of the Rakyat, her hands clasped together as her attention lazily drifted over the woman laying beneath her. Her blue eyes traced over the rough linen binding the woman's wrists together. There was so much she could do, so much she could say and yet, there was nothing she wished to. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the binder bow her head out of respect before slowly and silently taking her leave. The air was stilled once again, leaving the young woman with her dead. Citra cocked her head to the side, carefully, she reached down and slid back her eyelids, allowing herself to be lost within the emptiness of her eyes. The woman's cold, blank eyes stared up at her from her plinth. The icy darkness within them fascinated her as she returned the hollow look. Her mind fed her reasons and excuses for the hollowness that she felt staring down at the lifeless body. It was strange, deep within her, she felt calm. No grief stricken thoughts, no pain—she was as she ever was: calm and collected. Citra knew looking down at the cadaver that her mother was gone, the shell of her remained but she herself was elsewhere. Sadness was expected, she had thought, but it was fruitless. Whittling wouldn't bring her mother back, sobbing and cursing the natural order would just be a waste of energy. With a deep inhale she moved down beside her, tracing her fingertips over the traditional binds over her wrists and ankles. The final judgement of the situation was clear to her now. It was sad that she would never be able to speak to her again, but it was also advantageous. Now, there was nothing holding her dear brother back. Citra blinked, snapping back to her surroundings and focused on her mother's eyes once more. With a respectful nod she turned to leave. It was father's time to mourn.

Vaas stood on the outskirts of the Rakyat village, holding himself up against a tree. His hazel eyes remained wide open, staring fixedly at the small tent. He followed the contours of the shadows bleeding through the fabric of the tent. Hunapo the Brave emerged from his home, standing as tall as ever. Vaas kept his eyes fixed on his father as he entered the tent, all the while his mind was numbed. None of it felt real to him—it couldn't be real. In a split second, his mind flashed up images before his eyes, the sight of his mother laughing to herself back in their kitchen, giggling at the prank they had played on him. It was a cruel joke, but it was just a joke. A misguided and cruel joke.

Surely.

A frozen chill slithered over his flesh as he watched the silhouette of his father standing beside the figure, not even looking at it's face. The shadow placed his hand on the still shadow before striding out. His hazel eyes remained fixed on him as he wandered over to his sister, sharing a few words with her before he welcomed her in to his arms. With that, his father walked away, returning to his home and leaving Citra standing in the middle of the village. His attention returned to the little tent; he didn't even notice his sister approach him. The sudden tickle of her fingers brushing against his skin made him jolt.

"Brother," she whispered, allowing him a few moments to compose himself after the fright. Citra's eyes examined his face, watching how his gaze remained fused to their mother's tent. "It is time to say goodbye." Her stance faltered slightly as she simply shook his head. Her brow furrowed in curiosity as he kept quiet.

"No," he said, pursing his lips tightly. Citra reached out, placing her hand on the side of his bruised face,

"You must," her heart leapt as he set his hazel eyes on her.

"You really think this is funny, Citra?" his voice was low and devoid of emotion.

"No one is laughing brother," she placed her other hand on his face, moving his head so she could look at him properly. With a short, agitated breath, he broke free from her hold. "Go," she breathed out, "she is waiting for you." Much to her surprise, he let out a coarse laugh,

"Yeah," he sniffed, "yeah, this is hilarious," he gestured to the house, "Father put you up to this? Does he think it'll toughen me up?" Citra, grabbed him tightly, placing her palms either side of his head once more and stared into his eyes,

"I understand your pain," she whispered, a small hint of anger laced her words, "Now is not the time for childish behaviour." Vaas moved away and avoided her stare, "Mother is dead. All that is left to do now is to make peace with it." For a few agonising minutes the pair stood in total silence. The future leader watched him closely, trying fiercely to decipher his blank facial expression. Citra watched as he began walking towards the tent. A sad smile darkened her features as she stared. It would be difficult, she thought, but he would come out the other side of this tempered by the pain he would struggle with and become stronger than he ever could have imagined.

Vaas' heart felt as if it would explode out of his chest as he forced himself forwards. Without a moment's pause, his trembling hand brushed the fabric of the tent. There was nothing he wouldn't give to have the strength to turn and run. To run away through the trees and let the blackness swallow him whole just so he wouldn't have to experience the reality of the situation. Inwardly, his thoughts cursed him bitterly, taunting him by calling him weak and childish. With a surge of fear and anger, he snatched back the loose fabric and entered. As his feet rested on the earth contained within the recently constructed room, it felt as if the world outside had bled away, leaving him alone with the familiar figure lying motionless before him. He tried to move onwards, but found himself frozen in place, completely unable to take a step. With only a second to get a grip of himself, he hung his head to avoid looking at the figure and forced his legs to move. The silence in the small tent threatened to deafen him as he paced back and forth. It was no use, he couldn't do it. He couldn't look at the one person who had meant so much to him over all his years, he couldn't peer down at her. In his mind she was alive, she would be there waiting for him when he returned home, she would be the one to dress his wounds his father had inflicted. She would always be there to—he glanced down making his heart leap into his throat. The familiar yet strange eyes stared up, past the cloth, past the leaves to the sky above. Vaas' body turned towards her under it's own power. His mind was flooded with memories long since past. The sound of her voice filled his ears, the voice that he would never hear again. The young man's jaw clenched tightly as his eyes studied her. Every part of him begged for her to move, to draw breath, to do anything but lie there as silent as a corpse. A violent tremor of sorrow wrenched at his insides making him hunch over in pain, closer to that dead stare. In that moment, the only thing he could think to do was cry out, scream until his lungs burst. All the bravado had been torn away, leaving him shaking and trembling like a terrified child. Without thinking, his quaking hands moved over to her and hovered over her face. The agony made his legs go weak as he stared into those cold eyes.

"_Mama_," his voice shook uncontrollably as he spoke her native language, "_Mama, look at me._" His heart bled away each second he waited for a response. Suddenly, his body felt numb. With an uneasy exhale, he stepped backwards keeping his eyes on her as he backed away.

Citra watched intently as Vaas backed out of the tent and turned. It had seemed to hit him harder than she had expected. As her brother increased his pace towards the trees, a sad sigh escaped her lips. It was understandable that he would be afraid, she thought as she made her way into her home. Citra squinted as the light stung at her eyes and after a few moments, she could clearly make out her father sitting at the little table sharpening his machete.

"Father," she said softly, "Vaas has said goodbye." He nodded not taking his eyes off his weapon,

"Good," the rough scrape of stone on metal hissed through the still air, "Where is he? I want to speak to him." Citra's eyes wandered for a moment,

"I saw him run off." Hunapo stopped and peered up at his daughter curiously, "I don't think he is taking it as well as you are, papa," she let out a heartfelt sigh, "I shall go and talk to him. He must learn how to put aside his own emotion for the good of our people."

"Citra," Hunapo rose to his feet and carefully slid the machete back into its scabbard, "It is a father's duty."

The young warrior wandered through the gloom, his heavy legs pushed him forwards. He didn't know where he would go and if he had even bothered to wonder, he wouldn't have cared. The misery in his heavy heart weighed on him, threatening to tear him down right there and then. In his mind, the image of his dear mother lying there, staring vacantly out into the eternal blackness kept flashing up before his eyes making him visibly flinch. The weight of his body was nearly unbearable as he staggered through the damp foliage. His legs shuffled to a halt, leaving him to stand there wide-eyed, his vision fixed on the shadowed earth beneath him. Her eyes haunted him, the icy temperature of her paled skin—it enveloped him. Memories of his childhood snapped in and out of his consciousness. All that she had ever done for him exploded before his eyes within a second. Vaas gritted his teeth, the torturous pain felt as if it would crush him. The young man clutched at his head, digging his nails into his scalp and fell to his knees. His eyes opened slightly, the fog of tears blurred his vision to the point of uselessness. With a short, pained intake of breath he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the tears to stream down his face. Uable to find any words, Vaas threw back his head and screamed into the night air. His heart wrenched in bitter sorrow, making his voice crack and falter. A soft thud filled his ears as he collapsed into the earth, mingling with the last vestiges of his cry echoing through his very soul. He brought up his hands and covered his face, feeling the horror and anguish bleed out of his eyes. The fight in him had left with his roar, all that he could do now is weep into the palms of his hands and shake like a scared little boy.

"That is _enough,_" his father's voice made him whimper, he spun around and tried in vain to clear his vision. Vaas fought with all his strength to stop sobbing to try and speak, yet only garbled nonsense seemed to fall from his mouth. "Stand," Hunapo ordered, making his way over to his son. Vaas simply shook his head, his body was devoid of energy. "I said, _stand,_" Hunapo grabbed the collar of his shirt and roughly yanked him upright. Vaas avoided his father's harsh stare, "What is this?" he muttered, a small hint of sorrow colouring his words. "You think you are the only one in pain?" Vaas couldn't reply, "You do not think I am suffering too?" his voice raised slightly in anger. The young man shook his head slowly, mentally screaming at himself to get a grip. "You are my son, after I am dead, it will fall on your sister," he paused, "and you—if you are worthy—to lead our people." Hunapo took in a deep and steady breath, "Control yourself, boy," he spat.

"I..." Vaas choked out before covering his face with is hands.

"Do you really think she was more important to you than she was to me?!" Hunapo's shout split the air, "I stand here a widower and I remain in control of my emotions. Your sister is a _woman_ and she has managed to keep herself from falling apart," Hunapo shook his head in disgust, "It is time to break yourself, to reform and grow stronger." his father took a step backwards, "I will not tolerate your weakness much longer."

"Father-" Vaas whispered, fighting desperately to halt the flow of his tears, "I—I want to-"

"I do not care what you _want_ to do," he thrust a warning finger at him, "You will stop playing foolish games and become a man worthy of Rakyat blood or I will call you son no longer." A burning bubble of bile singed the back of the young man's throat as he stood there. Despite the quivering of his lower lip, he finally managed to speak,

"... Yes, father."

Over the next two days, Hunapo made sure his son was within view at all times so he could make sure he was doing what he wanted—when he wasn't checking on Citra's progress through her trials. Vaas had stood there with his dead mother forcing his artificial smiles of gratitude at the people bringing her farewell gifts, wishing hopelessly that Citra would help him shoulder the burden. He had been in their position once or twice himself. It was tradition for a family member to watch over the deceased—a perfect opportunity, his father had insinuated, for Vaas to get over his grief in the way a man should.

Vaas let out a pained whimper as Ani, one of his dear mother's friends in life, entered the tent.

"Ah, Elsa..." she said softly and looked over at the young man, shooting him a warm smile. Without another word, Ani walked over to his mother's plinth and carefully placed a small basket at her side filled with all manner of pretty wild flowers. "She was always so fond of the red ones." The bereaved son simply nodded, refusing to make eye contact. Ani placed her hands over Elsa's and lowered her head, saying a quiet prayer under her breath. Vaas kept his gaze on the floor and wished he knew what to say. "You must be very proud," Ani smiled and waited for a reply. "... The Brave told me of Citra's trials."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "She said she couldn't let mama's death control her actions."

"Your mother will be looking upon both of you with pride, little one." Vaas scowled at the term of endearment. Ani leaned down and placed a kiss on Elsa's forehead before nodding respectfully at the young warrior and taking her leave.

"Puta," he cursed under his breath and immediately pictured his mother scolding him for using a bad word. Vaas just shook his head mournfully. The only thing he could take solace in was that at the end of this agonising day, his mother would be buried. He had hoped that afterwards, it could all go back to normal—whatever 'normal' was; he wasn't sure any more.

Throughout his dear mother's burial, he had remained stone-faced and silent. He couldn't allow himself to pay attention, he couldn't allow himself to feel the loss that threatened to bubble over and drown him. He didn't even dare to look at his father the whole time for fear of what he might say or do. The young man's eyes had misted up once or twice and were quickly remedied by recalling his father's warning. Afterwards, he had gingerly approached his father, asking him if he was allowed to leave for the evening to help him wish his mother his last goodbye—alone. Much to his surprise, Hunapo had agreed without hesitation. Without wanting to give his father a chance to change his mind, he hurriedly made his way out into the trees. He needed to speak to someone, he needed to communicate with another human being. Citra had been gone for nearly two days on her trials and seeing that this was the first time he'd been truly let out his father's sight, he needed to make the most of it.

Vaas bolted through the undergrowth, the numbness in his heart made him feel cold even through the late evening's muggy atmosphere. It was true that he hadn't thought about why he was doing what he was doing, thinking had been his worst enemy the last few days and he wasn't about to let it torture him any longer. The young man's legs ached as he pushed them harder, urging himself to keep breathing through the stress of absolute exhaustion. It didn't matter to him, he followed his light at the end of the tunnel with all the strength he could muster, pushing himself harder and harder until it felt like his muscles would tear themselves asunder. Vaas staggered to a halt, resting his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. His heart pounded violently and his skin was ablaze with heat. His mind remained blank as he peered up, squinting to see through the dimming light. With a few deep breath to try and steady himself, he stumbled forward pathetically batting away the branches and leaves in his path. His hazel eyes frantically scoured the little town before him—she was nowhere to be seen. After about ten painful minutes of searching, he toyed with the idea of calling out for her, even going to her father and demanding to let him take her with him. A pleased and surprised gasp escaped his lips as she finally came into view. A few moments passed before she risked a glance up at the thicket. A wave of relief washed over him as he saw her starting to make her way over. He took a few shaky steps back into the foliage and pressed himself against a tree, closing his eyes and allowing himself to take a few calming breaths.

"Vaas?" her voice made the corners of his lips twitch, "Vaas, what the hell?" He opened his weary eyes, "Where have you been?" she folded her arms and shot him a cranky look, "Dick..." For the first time in three days he smiled genuinely.

"Come with me," he panted, "I'll tell you."

Citra's eyes ached terribly, they were shut so tightly she worried it would give her a headache. The soft tinkering in front of her closed eyes had made her body want to flinch, to whimper and cry, but she would never allow it. After all the nights she had lain awake imagining this very moment, she wasn't about to let it be anything less than perfect.

"Citra," her father's voice bled into her perceptions, "_I endow you with the Tatau. The source of all strength to our people. Since the first-_" Citra's mind began wandering. The exciting thing about it was that her purpose had finally begun. With the power of the Tatau, she would become the leader of her people and subsequently, their salvation. Alongside her dearest brother, of course. No matter how much weakness her father had shown in being unable to train him—to mould him into a warrior of his tastes, Citra knew she was the one to do so. It wasn't her father's fault, she reasoned, he was but a man, not a god. Neither was she of course, but unlike her close-minded father, she had an idea. A plan that would forever change the Rakyat, to allow them more power than any man had dreamed of. "_Arise, Citra Talugmai and bear the mark of our ancestors._" Citra's blue eyes opened and focused on her father who stood in front of her, the pride in his eyes was unmistakeable. As she rose to her feet, her fingertips idly traced over the newly scored flesh on her chin. With a soft exhale, she bowed her head,

"_I feel the power of our ancestors coursing through my veins._"

"Citra," Hunapo placed his hands on her shoulders, "_I am proud of you. You have grown into a strong woman and have proved to your people_—_and to me—that you are worthy of being Rakyat._"

"_I will not take this responsibility lightly._"

"_I know you will not,_" Hunapo smiled proudly down at his daughter and allowed her to exit the small room. With a deep breath she looked over the little village. She had missed it so much in the few days she had been absent.

"Where is my brother, papa?"

"Your brother went out walking a little while ago. He said he wanted to clear his mind of his grief once and for all." Citra nodded,

"I am glad he has finally realised why composure is everything to do with being a leader," she eyed her father for a moment, it was obvious to her that in his own stoic way, he too was suffering a great deal at the loss of her mother. She couldn't help but hope that one day, she could teach Vaas to do the same. "I will speak with him," she turned back to her father, "I shall return soon, papa." Citra made her way out into the jungle, the pride of her accomplishments bubbled within her, forcing her to keep it just under the surface. She absolutely couldn't wait to tell Vaas of her visions, to tell him of the great battle she had seen play out before her. Without a doubt, she knew that the spirits had shown her the most important battle of their lives.

Kayla had listened closely, barely batting an eye as Vaas had explained his mother's passing. It felt awful to him that he still felt numb, like there was a giant wall inside him, holding in his pain. He still felt it, of course, but he couldn't seem to break free of it as easily as his father had done.

"I think you're very brave," Kayla whispered, shuffling into the earth to get more comfortable. He cast his gaze on her thoughtfully and opted to remain quiet. "When my mum died," she paused, visibly uncomfortable about being so blunt, "I wasn't very old. I, uh-"

"It's all right," he shot her a lop-sided smile, "I don't really want to talk about it, either." Kayla nodded and nudged him gently,

"That's fine. Hey, I know something that might cheer you up." He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, noting the warm smile aimed at him, "Dad got some weird Chinese bootlegs of some old action movies." Vaas couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"I don't know... Father wants me close since..." he trailed off, prompting her to place a comforting hand over his. "This is pretty much my one allowed excursion," he joked, resting his arms on his knees. Finally, he felt as if he could relax. The grief was there, but it almost felt like it had been brushed over, allowing him to take a well needed breather. He risked a quick glance at Kayla and smiled, he couldn't even begin to try and understand why.

"I know you're feeling crap about it but, hey, you're a tough guy," she shrugged feeling a little foolish, "Sorry for bringing it up again, I just... I don't know, I guess I worry about you." Vaas smirked and leaned closer to her,

"Why do you worry about me?" Kayla let out an exasperated sigh and slapped his knee,

"_Because_, you dick."

"I don't think you need to," he smiled slightly, watching as she propped herself up so she could look him in the eye,

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it?" Her eyes absent-mindedly traced over his face. "I just do, I guess..." she lowered her voice to a whisper and shot him a coy smile. Vaas brushed a stray strand of her hair out of her face,

"It's nice to have someone looking out for me," he half-joked. Without another word, Kayla leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. Vaas let her push him onto his back and let out a comforted breath, sliding his fingers into her hair.

Citra's blue eyes filled with fire as she watched the two together; a deep and hateful rage seared at her gut. From behind a tree she glared daggers, the agonising betrayal she felt made her hands tremble. Without a sound, she steadied herself against the tree's rough bark, digging her nails into it to stop herself from screaming in fury. After everything she had done for him, after all of the unconditional love and respect he had received from her, this was the thanks she got. Citra shook her head bitterly, the disgust she felt threatened to overwhelm her. The young woman couldn't take her eyes of them—she just couldn't believe it. She covered her face with her hand, letting out an unsteady breath. _No_, she thought, this will not do.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Everything was so strange.

The packed earth underneath her bare feet was much rougher and well trodden than that of her home. As she pressed on through the strange collection of buildings, her eyes traced over the inhabitant's faces. It was such a surreal feeling for the young woman, how everything about it was different... and wrong. She watched curiously as a man of about fifty pottered about his area, his leathery skin creased with every movement. The sound of rough hands brushing over the dry, cracked wooden table before him flooded her ears. The people walking past her only offered her a quick glance before returning to their business. The sound of a blade being sharpened caught her attention, just ahead of her sat on old man on a little veranda. His legs propped up on an upturned bucket, his focus entirely fixated on the knife in his hands. Beside him there was another stall manned by a woman in her mid forties. The woman's blathering washed over her as she wandered over. Her hand reached out as she approached, her eyes set on a shirt plastered with garish colours. This must be where the mothers would get their children's clothing, she thought, idly brushing her fingers over the coarse fabric. Her blue eyes snapped up upon hearing the older woman's voice—offering it to her for a small fee. With an amused smile, she simply shook her head and continued onwards; clothing was the least of her concerns for now. The hustle and bustle made her head spin, it was so unlike what she was used to—the worst of it was the noise; the endless chatter and shuffling. Through the haze of people, her eyes burned through the little town, scouring it, searching restlessly—too much time had been wasted, becoming absorbed into that horrible world would only delay her goal. Father had been right, she thought, these people were barely above animals. The young woman pressed onwards, her pace still calm and relaxed. Not long after, dreadful noises bled into her ears, the sounds of a strange language being shouted, the sound of gunfire. Cautiously, she followed the noises through the crowd and came to a halt in front of a small table, covered in strange boxes and a small screen flickering with hazy imagery. Her eyebrows knitted, she had heard of such things before. The images of a group of men huddled together behind crates flashed up on the screen, the shouts and cries of a mock battle made her lip curl.

"Hey there," a friendly voice chimed. She turned to face the owner of that sickly sweet voice, "See anything you like?" She studied the girl's face curiously, barely concealing the contempt wanting to scrawl itself into her features.

"I am not so sure," she replied softly, risking a glance back at the images. This was it, she thought, she is the one.

"That's fine, what kind of thing are you thinking of? We've got movies coming out of our ears," the girl' voice was pleasant enough, but that just seemed to make her anger gnaw at her even more.

"I was just intrigued..."

"Well, lucky for you, I know pretty much every movie here!" she chuckled sweetly, making her stomach tighten. No wonder, she thought, my brother was foolish enough to be enslaved by this creature. "I'm Kayla by the way."

"It is nice to meet you," Citra forced a pleasant tone and bowed her head. "Call me Elsa."

As Vaas lay face down in the cold earth all he could do was focus on the pain. The sound of his father barking another order at him made his body spring to life. Out of habit, he rose up from the earth and dusted himself off, trying his best to spit as much of the dirt from his lips as he could. Without instruction, he lunged forward, raining seemingly ineffectual blows down upon his father. It was more of an automatic response now. An involuntary gasp clawed its way out from his mouth as he was struck at the side of his head, causing him to be knocked to the floor once again. His father's critical words washed over him as he shakily rose to his feet. When he was with his father now, he was more a robot than a person. His teeth gritted as he managed to sway around a punch—he finally managed to land several lashes on him, but it gave him no satisfaction. The only thing his mind was filled with was the notion that his sparring would soon be over. Then—and only then—could he be himself again, in a manner of speaking. His mother's death had nearly destroyed him, this much was certain, yet even that tragedy wouldn't make his father relent. Citra had proved herself worthy, bearing the power of the Tatau for all to see. The only feeling left within him was loss, but when he was with his father, he could feel something different. A strange pit of fire that seared his stomach, pressed down upon by a large slab of misery, unable to escape. He hit the ground again, the fall instantly knocking all the wind out of him. He gasped for air, panting into the earth and hoped secretly that one day he would finally break free of the numbness he had to feel within his father's presence.

Citra smiled amiably at Kayla as she produced yet another droll little box for her to examine,

"That one's a bit..." Kayla paused trying to find the right words, "Violent, I guess?" Citra peered down at the tape with feigned interest,

"Violence means little to me," her blue eyes watched her fumble through some more tapes. By her ancestors, she loathed this creature. Everything about her was so saccharine sweet—it turned her stomach. Much to her dismay, the realisation struck her that Kayla might not be as useful as she had hoped. Everything about the wretched girl oozed with niceties; it would never work.

Citra couldn't help but scold herself mentally. The young woman had seemed to have had it all planned out in her own mind. A month and a half plotting—wasted. As Citra's eyes bored through the other young woman, she knew she couldn't have her way, she couldn't force her dear brother to do what had to be done. She had even gone as far as to arrange a meeting with him for that night under the guise of finally revealing what a recent vision had told her, but that was spoiled now. With a deep breath to steel herself, Citra forced the doubts and frustrations from her mind. It was no matter, she assured herself, it would simply have to be done another time. Unless of course, she was missing something—an opportunity, a window,_ anything_. The desperation flooded her mind only to be forced back by her strength of will.

"Hello there," a deep voice made her turn. Citra's blue eyes stared up at the young man who had stood beside Kayla, dwarfing her with his height. "You playing nice?" he teased, nudging her gently, "She can be a real terror, I've gotta say." He wrapped his arm around Kayla and gave her a friendly squeeze.

"Not at all, Kayla has treated me well." Kayla uttered a joyous chuckle and shoved him back,

"Ignore him," Citra had to bite back an amused smirk, this was starting to become very interesting. Her blue eyes traced over his features, the shaggy brown hair, the hint of stubble on his chin.

"I'm Adam," he reached out his hand for her to shake. After a moment, Citra placed her hand in his, peering up at him curiously,

"Elsa," she eyed him again, "Are you going to help me with these videos, too?"

"Nah," he laughed, "That's the sister's job," he shot her a sly wink. The corners of Citra's lips turned upwards as she studied him.

"I feel that maybe a more masculine perspective may assist in my decision," she said, making sure to smile politely at Kayla. Adam raised a curious eyebrow and nodded,

"All right, I can manage that."

"Thank you for your help, Kayla." The young woman beamed with a friendly smile,

"Of course, you need anything, say _decent_ company," she nudged her brother, "You give me a shout."

"With no hesitation," she cooed, her heart lifted as the grotesque girl left her. This would be an excellent opportunity to learn more about her through the eyes of others. Adam leaned his elbows onto the coarse wood and smiled warmly at the young woman.

"So, what you got in mind?"

"I want violence," she stated, a mysterious smile crept over her lips.

"Violence, eh?" he chuckled. "No worries. Violence I can do."

Vaas' body ached as he staggered back home, loyally following along behind his father. The numbness began trickling away from him, dripping from him as he thawed. His hazel eyes burned into the back of his father's head. His mind recalled everything he had said to him, every little pick and snipe he had uttered at him stung his mind with their barbs. The closer they got to their village, the more he seethed. It was afterwards—after the fighting and hunting—that was when the torment resumed. How he hated that man. A shaky breath escaped his lips, the sheer force of his anger took him aback, making him stop and look at himself. Vaas was furious with his father for the humiliation, the refusal to allow him to feel—it seemed to make his anger all the more prevalent. Hunapo stopped in his tracks as they approached the village and turned back to his son. Without a word, he carried on. The young warrior's heart leapt into his throat, had he been able to tell what he was thinking? As his father wandered off, he slumped down into a seated position and drew a few haggard breaths, clutching at his tender abdomen. He stared down into the village, holding his breath and counting the seconds as they went by. He wasn't like Citra. He was still only treated and looked upon as a child whereas a she was _worthy_ of adulthood. If his sister felt like wandering out into the island, she could go and no one would stop her—but not him, he wouldn't be allowed to do that. Even the other boys in the village were allowed some freedom. Vaas let out a curt sigh and tried to wipe the jealous thoughts from his mind. If he was going to leave to meet his sister, it would have to be soon.

Citra's eyes traced over Adam's face curiously. He was handsome, certainly, but was that enough, she wondered.

"Ah, this one," he beamed, "this is a personal favourite of mine." She idly glanced at the garish cover,

"Does your sister enjoy this one much?" Adam shot her a slightly confused look,

"Not really," he laughed, "Very macho kinda thing."

"You seem very close to her."

"I uh," he turned, a warm smile spreading across his face, "Yeah, I guess. Dad's always been a bit of a waster, plus after mum died it got a little hectic. Kayla and I pretty much raised ourselves." Citra covered her mouth with her hand theatrically. Yes, this one was perfect.

"Oh my, I am sorry. I didn't know."

"No reason you should." She placed her hand on his arm, lightly stroking his flesh,

"I am sorry I brought it up," she said softly in an attempt to comfort him. Adam glanced down at her hand and back up at her. It was understandable that he was nervous, she reasoned, but she was sure he'd get over it.

"So," he flashed a big grin her way, "haven't seen you around here before." Citra slowly swept some hair over her shoulder and let out a long, thoughtful sigh.

"This is my first time here," she forced a feeble expression, "It is kind of scary to me..."

"You live on Rook?" she nodded in response, "Ah, you're one of the.." his voice trailed off as he searched for the least offensive word, "Natives, right?"

"Well, if that is what you call us," she forced a pleasant chuckle; this was getting tiresome. Adam watched her for a moment before reaching out and brushing his fingers over her brand new tattoo,

"I guess that explains your, uh..." she cast him an alluring smile and lightly brushed his fingertips with her own,

"You are very perceptive, Adam," Citra risked a glance at the sky before her eyes rested on his once more.

"Can't say I know much about, uh, your—your people."

"There is a lot of history behind us, I fear it would take far too long to explain it now." Adam smiled and rose to his full height, casting a few glances towards the back of the stall,

"Well, if you like tribe girl, I can get out of here for a while and you can tell me this long history." Citra smiled shyly and nodded. Excellent, she thought, he was intrigued by her. This would make it all the more easy.

Vaas' muscles had relaxed slightly as he travelled. The bruises were starting to swell, but if he were honest about it, he liked the pain. It wasn't that he found it appealing in any way; to him, it felt deserved. Like the pain was his just reward for being such a tremendous disappointment. Within that moment, his mind was swept free of debris, leaving behind one solitary thought: _I wish mama was here_. The thought shook him, making his weary legs stop. A burning sting in the corners of his eyes made him tremble, with an unsteady breath he ran his fingers through his short, black hair and mentally screamed at himself for allowing the pain back to the surface. No, he wasn't allowed his grief—he couldn't allow it.

"Well, look who we have here." A pang of dread swelled from inside his gut as the familiar voice met his ears. "It is a little late, don't you think?"

"Where do you think you're going?" Vaas turned slowly, praying that when he turned to face them, they would be gone. His shoulders visibly drooped as he laid eyes on Tane and his cronies. Over the years he had fought so bitterly, so fiercely to receive their praise, but now, the very thought of them made his stomach turn.

"Tane," he warned, "I'm not really in the mood for this right now." Anaru was the first to scoff, as if trying to maintain his leader's approval,

"For what?" Tane feigned ignorance, a smarmy grin plastered over his face, "Just out enjoying the night air. Unlike you...?" Vaas shook his head and turned away, their stupid games wouldn't stop him from keeping his appointment. Tane's hand shot out of the darkness, landing heavily on his shoulder and spinning him back to face the group,

"Come on, Vaas, no need to be so-"

"I am warning you," he snapped back. Tane and his friends laughed off the thinly veiled threat. Tane placed his hand on Vaas' shoulder and shot him a brazen grin,

"And what is a runt like you going to do to?" Vaas stared unblinkingly at the older boy, the hate and anger began seeping back through his stomach, heating his skin through the strength of it. At that moment, the blade that hung around his waist seemed to grow in weight—doubling, tripling, nearly tearing him down to his knees. His eyes rested in the hilt of his machete and for a moment, all he could think about was ending him, then and there. "Oh, you are going to cut me up, is that it?" Vaas' eyes snapped back at the older boy, watching him as he turned to laugh with his friends. The ebbs of fury increased, turning into crashing waves of pure rage as he stood there.

"Get the fuck away from me," his voice was low and menacing, even Tane noticed.

"And if I say no?" without a moment of hesitation, Vaas slammed his fist into the side of Tane's head, making him stumble back. Vaas clutched his head tightly, it was if he'd just watched someone else land the blow. It terrified him, the anger, the pain, where had it all come from, he wondered.

"Vaas!" Tane cried out, his voice shook from the sudden impact, "What is _wrong_ with you?!" he gingerly brushed his fingers over his eye. Vaas remained silent, still reeling from the terror of his outburst. It was no lie that he had wanted to smash the stupid grin of Tane's face for years but this was different, it wasn't right.

"You're too sensitive," Tane took a step back, visibly wary of the young man before him. "We were just having some fun."

"You are so strange," Paau mumbled, shaking his head in disgust.

"I have-" Vaas gasped, the quivering of his body visible for all to see. "I have to go."

Citra and Adam had been wandering for a while and it had started to grate on her. Once in a while she would force a sultry glance in his direction, maybe even a fake laugh. She wasn't interested in him, she wasn't interested in anything he could conceivably care about, she was only after one very specific thing.

"Kayla was just pretty much wandering around the whole coast looking for her friggin' doll or something. I mean of course, I had to go out and get her, I mean shit, you heard about those pirates wandering around?" Citra nodded, "Plus if she'd have ran into an animal or something..." he shot her a sly grin, "I'd have had to had kicked it's miserable hide all 'round this place." Citra forced another laugh and slid her arm through his,

"I will say I feel so much safer with you here," she uttered a gentle sigh, "I think every girl should have a big, handsome escort to walk with..." It wasn't something she had practised, but her technique seemed to be passable at least.

"Well," he let out a soft chuckle, "Good for you then, isn't it, Elsa?" Citra looked up and laughed,

"I am sorry, I am very forward..." Adam rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged,

"I ain't complaining..." A warm smile spread across her face, it was almost too easy for her. Men—she had decided—were lost souls wandering the earth, looking for a reason to carry on, searching for direction and with this revelation of hers, she had reasoned that it would be cruel to allow them to drift.

"You just look so exotic to me, I find it... alluring." Adam's face lit up with a proud grin. Citra sat down on the soft earth and leaned back, letting out a soft breath. "... Sit and enjoy the beauty of the jungle with me." with no hesitation, he followed her order, slumping down heavily into the earth. Citra's blue eyes lethargically traced over the dimly lit trees before them. The young woman would never admit it, but she couldn't help but feel slightly nervous about the whole thing. She closed her eyes and watched the memories bleed into the darkness. The gambit of emotion flooded into her mind, and she was there again, standing behind that tree. Her mind's eye focused on the two, entwined in passion. It made her skin tingle watching her brother writhe on top of the creature he had chosen—but she couldn't focus on that beast, she thought, going back to the scene. Her heart raced as she watched the memory of her dear brother slide his hand up the side of the girl's leg and pull her closer into his embrace. Yes, that was what she needed. In a flash her eyes opened, her whole body turned to Adam. Citra placed her hands on either side of the young man's face and forced his lips onto hers. The frenzy of lust set deep within her bones as she dragged her nails roughly through his hair, making him wince. As Citra tore free of her own passion, she rested her head on Adam's, keeping her eyes fixed to the floor, "I want you," she growled, the furious desire bubbled up from within her, threatening to make her tremble. Adam moved in to her lips once more, only to be pushed away, "No," she whispered, "I want you to _earn_ me." Adam remained silent, focusing on her lips—yearning for more of her. Citra pulled away and rose to her feet, the sadistic joy of toying with him made her body melt with euphoria. Her eyes locked with his as she reached for the strap of her clothing and tore it violently, Adam's eyes and jaw dropped in disbelief, focusing on her exposed chest. With a mysterious smile, she traced her fingers over her collar bones down to her navel. The nerves and fear had slipped away, leaving only the desire behind. It wouldn't be long now. With a suggestive giggle Citra turned and walked away, looking over her shoulder at the man she had eating out of the palm of her hand. She turned back and held out her hands, beckoning him to follow her, "Come," she whispered, a large grin lighting up her face, "come and take what you want." Adam scurried to his feet, hurrying after her, increasing his pace to keep up with her sprint. Adrenaline surged through her, allowing her speed to outpace that of her suitor's. Citra's heart raced with excitement—this was it. Her eyes hurriedly scanned the trees before she risked a glance over her shoulder. Adam was quite a way back, but he was there, she knew it. His impulses saturated her, mingling with her own. Citra laughed into the air, giving him something to chase. Laughing, followed by cries that blended into emotional shrieks. When she was sure she was out of his sight, she stumbled to a halt, placing her hands on a nearby tree. With a few short, sharp intakes of breath, she was prepared. The fierce crack of the wood against her skull made her head spin, but she couldn't stop now. Trying hard as she could to ignore the aching swell of pain over her right eye, she bolted back into the night.

Vaas' heart stopped. Were his senses playing tricks on him? The young warrior's heart pounded in his chest as he strained his ears to pick up on the noise once more. There, he thought, the sound of a young woman's cries—and they were growing closer. A stab of fear made him physically wince. He spun around, trying desperately to discern the origin of the cries. His hazel eyes widened as Citra burst out of the darkness, collapsing into his arms.

"Citra, what-?"

"Please, brother," she wept bitterly, "Please help me,_ please_." Vaas studied her closely, not knowing if the scene playing out before him was actually happening. Citra trembled in his arms, her clothing had been torn from her abdomen and a large, painful welt on the side of her face. His stomach wrenched,

"Citra, slow down, what happened?" he stated, the horror of the situation hadn't sunk in yet.

"I-I went to town and, there was a man there and—and he-" a heavy wave of fear and sorrow washed over her, snatching away her ability to speak. Vaas stepped back and averted his gaze from her bare chest. Without a moment's pause, he pulled his shirt over his head and gently helped her slip it on. Their attention was drawn to a man's cries, Citra froze immediately, "Vaas, Vaas it is _him_! Please, you have to stop him..."

"Shh, Citra," he soothed her; his mind still couldn't take in the gravity of what seemed to be unfolding.

"Brother, I cannot-" he squeezed her shoulders, "_Please_, he is a demon."

"Citra, go. Go and wait for me," he ordered, turning to face the direction that she had run from.

"Brother-"  
"Go!" he shouted, barely able to contain his rage. After a few moments, Adam emerged from the darkness, just as Citra had. Vaas clenched his jaw, eyeing the man up and down. "Looking for someone?" Adam kept looking about the small clearing. Vaas' stomach flipped as he heard him laugh.

"Oh yeah," the swoon in his voice made his lips pull back into a contemptuous sneer. "Cute tribal girl," he held up his hand, "About this high, you seen her?"

"Yeah," he took a few steps forwards. The fury in his blood began building up. "She a friend of yours?"

"Not yet, if you know what I mean," he laughed proudly to himself and began making his way past the young warrior. Vaas' hand shot out, stopping him in his tracks.

"I thought we might have a little word." Adam shot a frantic glance at the darkness behind the warrior, visibly worried that his chance might slip away. His eyes rested on Vaas' face,

"... Hey, I know you, don't I?" Vaas glanced down at the earth, his body and tongue were running on autopilot, as if he was witnessing another person's actions.

"No, you don't know me." Adam shrugged, letting out an exasperated laugh,

"We can have an intense chat some other time, man, I gotta go." With a grunt, Vaas shoved him with all his might. The trickle of hatred and anger swelled, making his arms tremble.

"I think I wanna talk to you right now."

"What's your problem, man?" Vaas lunged forwards, the pressure of his bottled hate shook him to his core as he grabbed onto Adam's collar, yanking him closer to his face.

"_I_ got a problem?" he whispered through gritted teeth, "Yeah I got a problem, motherfucker, you—_you_ are my problem." Adam's eyebrows knitted in confusion, "You think this is funny, you think this is okay?!" Vaas slammed his fist into his face, knocking him to the floor. "Get the fuck up!" he screamed, his voice peaking with the intensity of his rage. Vaas bolted forwards, not giving him time to clamber to his feet, leaping onto him and raining blows down on his enemy. "You wanna fuck with my sister?! You think you can get away with that?!" Vaas tightened his hands around the dazed man's throat and squeezed as hard as he could. His fiery eyes burned deep into that of his enemy's, wanting only one thing: to make him pay for having the audacity to trifle with his sister. "You disgusting piece of-" Adam's fingers dug into Vaas' eyes, trying to make him release his grip. The scoring of his flesh made him cry out in pain and fury. He thrashed and pulled away, keeping his hands firmly around Adam's neck. The scratches his enemy dug into the back of his hand only bolstered his resolve. Out of the corner of his eye, Vaas saw Adam's free hand clamber frantically about the earth before resting on a large rock. Just as he watched his hand grip around its rough contours, Vaas instinctively tore his machete from its scabbard and released his hold on his enemy's neck. The sound of agonising gasps filled his ears, the sight of the man underneath him reaching up to try and grab him meant nothing, and with a ferocious heave he plunged the blade into his chest. A blood-curdling scream threatened to deafen him. Vaas' fury ridden eyes stared down at Adam's face, watching the fear in his eyes as they grew dark. The hot, sticky flow of liquid pouring over his arms caught his attention. His hazel eyes widened at the horrific sight under him as if seeing it for the first time. The young man's breaths were short and shaky as the realisation of his deed bled into his mind. There, beneath him, the man remained still. The scent of fresh blood made his skin crawl as he studied the grisly scene. Vaas staggered back, clambering away as fast as he could manage. He clutched his head fiercely, smearing freshly spilled blood over his face and shook his head. "No," he whispered to himself, fighting bitterly to stop his lower lip from shaking. A hand on his shoulder made him release the sorrowful sob he had been trying to hold back. "Citra, I-" he choked out. The swell of agony forced him to his knees. Citra stooped down to his level, wrapping her arms around his trembling body.

"It is all right, brother," she whispered, barely able to conceal her proud smile, "Everything will be all right now..."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The trees, bathed in the deathly blue hue of the moon, seemed to wrap around the little pool of water, leaning closer to the two shadowed figures who sat at it's modest bank, as if to learn their secrets. The soft lapping of the waters ripples crept through the air, only to be smothered into silence by the surrounding foliage. The younger of the two knelt before her companion, gently and sedately dipping her hands into the pool and bringing up small handfuls of water to run over her dear brother's skin. As she leaned back, plunging her hand back into the pool, the crimson stains seeped into its depths, twirling and weaving around the surface before finally melting away into nothingness.

Citra gently ran her damp fingertips over her brother's forearm, leaving streaks in the dried blood. As she peered down at it thoughtfully, she began to speak. Her words were of courage and heroism, about pride and about strength. She spoke of the vision she had been shown by their anscestors in an attempt to comfort him. How she had witnessed before her very eyes, the rising of a great and fearful enemy, how war for their people rested on the horizon. Occasionally she would glance up hoping to meet his hazel eyes, yet those wonderful eyes of his had turned black. staring out past the trees and leaves, past the world before her eyes and into something solitary and dark. She had reasoned that this kind of reaction was normal, it had to be. The taking of a life was something only the strongest warriors could learn to revel in. Citra spoke of their tribe's great importance to their island—telling him a sweet parable to soothe his frayed nerves, and yet, he still remained silent. Her words washed over him, the stories and reassurance she uttered fell upon deaf ears. Finally, she decided to hold her tongue and focus on the task at hand, her magnificent brother was still caked in the chalky grit of dried blood, and their dear father would be wondering where they had gotten to. She traced her nails down his arm, admiring the curves and muscles of it, allowing the spark of admiration to warm her gut. Citra suppressed a soft smile and rinsed her hand in the pool before returning to her task.

A soft whisper met her ears, the sound of it threatened to deafen her due to the silence surrounding them. Citra's eyes traced over her brother's lips, watching as he mouthed inaudible words to an invisible spectre. Carefully, she continued cleaning off his blood caked chest, straining her ears to hear.

"... It's not right," she could just make out his words, "You don't do that you can't do that, it's not right to do that to someone, you take something wonderful and you try and destroy it and leave it alone with nothing, no, no that can't be allowed, it isn't right, you wanted to be close but didn't care who you hurt, everything you wanted—you wanted to take everything and leave nothing you-"

"Brother," Citra hissed over his breathless rambling. Her heartbeat raced as she watched him continue to speak as if he hadn't heard her. Vaas' eyes flicked back and forth while his body trembled.

"It can't be allowed, you can't just-"

"Vaas!" Citra cried out, making her brother jolt backwards in terror. Her eyes bored into him, he stared back at her with bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down his bloodied face. "Vaas, it is _done_," she urged, secretly growing tired of his behaviour, "A warrior must be strong. Take the pain inside and realise that what's done is done, and that it was done for the right reason." Vaas stared back in silent horror, she could almost see the events replaying before his eyes, "That mongrel deserved to die."

"C-Citra..." he sobbed,

"No," she plunged her hands back into the cold water and turned, rubbing his face roughly to remove the last remnants of blood, "This has been your first step, brother. Your path to become a warrior has begun." Citra's usual pleasant features had hardened into a contemptuous scowl, "Now," she began, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning close to his face, "We will return home and you will get a hold of yourself. Realise that your worries are just weakness." Vaas' eyes locked with hers, "Let me teach you, dear brother," she leaned back, a small smile dancing on her lips, "I will teach you how to harness your power."

The walk home seemed to last an eternity for the two siblings. Citra had walked forwards, dragging her dazed brother behind her, making sure he followed her loyally. The soft orange flicker of the bonfire bled into view. Citra smiled proudly to herself, marching her brother back into their home. If Vaas had been able to take anything in, he would have instantly noted his father's curious yet stern glares cast his way. With a few simple words, Citra ushered her shaken brother to bed before returning to her dear father to explain.

"Papa," she bowed her head respectfully. Hunapo's eyes remained on her and Vaas' bedroom door,

"What is wrong with _him_?" he muttered, running his index finger over his top lip in thought. Citra glanced over at the doorway and clasped her hands in front of her, "What happened to your eye, my dear Citra?" his voice was filled with genuine worry,

"Papa, I fell," a soft twinge of nostalgia flooded her senses, remembering how Vaas had usually been the one to explain his injuries. "I hit my head and..." she paused, a swell of embarrassment made her cheeks glow red, "And my clothing was torn..." she cleared her throat, "Vaas came to my aid and helped me back home."

"I am glad you are safe, my precious daughter," Hunapo nodded earnestly,

"Thank you, papa."

"And your brother?" Citra took a seat opposite him and rested her hands in her lap. She was going to have to lie to her father, this much was certain, but it was what she needed to do—it was that simple.

"I am worried for Vaas," she frowned, "I think he is ill, papa. He was bitten by a snake whilst he was helping me." Hunapo shook his head slowly, the sad expression of disappointment covered his face. "Papa," he raised his eyebrows expectantly, "I understand you are busy and I wish to aid you, as a dutiful daughter and your servant." It wasn't hard, playing to her father's ego. He was truly a magnificent man, but she knew that with some of her choices, he would have a hard time accepting them.

"How so, dear one?"

"With my brother being ill, I feel I should watch over him. You are the leader of our people, you cannot burden yourself with such frivolities." Hunapo leaned back in his chair, making a steeple with his fingers.

"As you wish, my darling Citra. If this is what you feel is your task, then I believe you shall do well."

"Yes, papa, I believe it is." She watched as he shot a dissatisfied glance at her and her brother's bedroom, "Do not worry, papa," she assured him, "It is my duty to make sure he will be well again."

The amber glow of the sunset danced through the twigs and branches, casting claw like shadows over the opposite wall of his small room. Vaas' bloodshot eyes bored into the shadows mindlessly. Underneath his eyes, heavy black bags had formed, broadcasting his exhaustion to any who cast their gaze upon him. It had been three days since the 'incident'—as he had started mentally referring to it as—and since that night, he hadn't slept at all. Every time he had closed his crimson eyes, it was there, laid out before him anew. The blood, the sweat, the fear and most terrifying of all, the cold dead eyes of the man whose life he had snatched away. In an instant, everything had changed. Vaas had realised the severity of what he had done early the next day, he had cried and vomited so hard with disgust and horror that he feared he would die. After his dear mother had passed away, there had been a tear inside of him—a black hole, buried deep within him. Now, after what he had done, it seemed to fray, twist and tear at itself, leaving only agony, doubt and hopelessness in his mind. All he had wanted since that morning was to see Kayla. To look upon those breathtaking eyes of hers and be absolved by them. Vaas closed his eyes, letting out a bitter sigh, if he were honest, he didn't believe he was worthy of absolution, but that didn't stop the burning urge he felt to see her—to be held close to her and feel at peace like when his mother had died.

"Brother," Citra's voice snapped his mind away from his train of thought. "I have brought you some dinner." Vaas' dull, aching eyes slowly drifted over to her. He couldn't understand why she seemed so... _normal_. After his deed was done, she had remained her usual self. It bent his mind. "Sit up, brother." Vaas obliged silently, keeping his eyes on the food.

"Thank you," his voice creaked. He wasn't hungry at all, but it kept his sister happy if he at least put up the façade of enjoying his meals.

"You know very well that I would do anything for you," she cooed, gently brushing her hand against his. Vaas paused, risking an emotionless glance at her before returning to his meal. "How are you feeling?"

"... Okay," he lied through his teeth. He felt more inhuman than he could ever have imagined possible. Citra turned away for a moment, seemingly checking to see if they were alone in the house.

"Do you remember what I said, Vaas?"

"Yes," he muttered, not even looking at her. "I remember."

"Good," her voice grew stern, "Do not forget what I said," she rose to her feet, placing her hand on his bare shoulder, "Let me help you, brother, and we shall set this world to right."

Citra's gaze lingered on her brother as she left. She couldn't help but admit she was somewhat disappointed in him. A thought resurfaced in her mind, a thought she had been aware of for years: Maybe, he wasn't as strong as she had hoped. But how to fix such a problem? No matter what, she knew that what she felt in her heart was the right thing to do. It would be difficult, but that's why she had been chosen by their ancestors, they knew she was capable, and if pushing herself and the people she loved to their absolute limits, then so be it.

Vaas studied the doorway intently. He had to go, he had to see her, even for just a minute. With a deep breath he tore the covers off himself and hurriedly tugged his trousers on. It was now or never, he warned himself. Vaas' vision was shaky from lack of sleep but he wouldn't allow that to put a dint in his determination. With a soft grunt, he heaved himself out of his bedroom window. A soft thud shook through his exhausted body as he hit the ground running. There wasn't any time, he had to run, he couldn't wait any longer.

Vaas' legs burned as he raced towards the little town, pushing himself to run as fast as he could. His mind spun with images of how he might be greeted by her, a soft embrace, a tender kiss, he needed her to wash away the charred flecks that coated his conscience—to soothe his brittle psyche. Kayla was the only other thing he had left.

As the young warrior staggered to a halt inside their usual meeting place, he keeled over, holding himself upright for fear his lungs would burst. Sweat poured down his hot face as he gasped for air, making the chill of the evening breeze nip mercilessly at his flesh. Under his breath he prayed desperately she would see him. With a few final deep breaths to calm his trembling and exhausted body, he hobbled out of the trees, his bloodshot eyes scouring the little town before him. A pained whimper escaped his lips as he laid eyes on her and her father's stall, which seemed to be empty. His legs pulled him forwards through the leaves, he slumped heavily onto the floor, all the time his eyes remained fixed on the darkened stall.

"Please," his lips moved under their own volition, "Please, Kayla._ Please_..." His heart sank at the realisation that he would spend another agonising evening without her. Vaas let out a heartfelt sigh and buried his head in his hands. The sound of lethargic footsteps approaching couldn't even make him raise his head. The sound stopped; he could feel eyes on him.

"Vaas." His brow furrowed at the familiar yet unknown voice. It sounded like Kayla, but it was tinted with sorrow, shaky almost. Nervously, he looked up and uttered a relieved breath.

"Kayla," he clambered to his feet. Surely his prayers had been answered—he was so lost in his own luck, he didn't notice her tear-stained cheeks at first. "I, uh-" he cleared his throat and paused, taking a moment to examine her haggard appearance. Her usual smile had been replaced with a bitter frown, her deep chestnut hair was messy and frayed, her clothing hung off awkwardly her making her look even more dishevelled. "Are you okay?" was all he could think to say. Kayla shook her head and pushed past him,

"I just," she gasped, "I need to get away for a while..."

Vaas followed along behind her, all of his worries and fears had melted away, leaving nothing but his concern for her. Every minute she stayed quiet made the knot of dread in his stomach tighten and surge. Much to his surprise, she stopped dead in her tracks. Cautiously, he approached her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Kayla, tell me what's wrong." She spun around, newly formed tears trickling down her face, the force of her sorrow making her small frame shake.

"It's uh," she sniffled loudly, "I don't even know where to-" she swallowed hard and paused, taking a minute to study his exhausted features, "...What's wrong with _me_? You look like death warmed up." Vaas shook his head in frustration,

"I'm fine, what happened?" Kayla uttered a soft whimper and all but fell into his arms sobbing like a child. Vaas' sinking feeling stabbed at him once more. "Shh," he stroked her hair gently in an attempt to soothe her.

"It's Adam," she managed to stutter through her heavy waves of tears, "He's dead." Vaas froze, surely she wasn't talking about the man who attacked Citra. His mind raced, what if Kayla knew him—what If they were friends?

"W-who's Adam? What happened?" his voice trembled as he spoke.

"There was this girl," she sniffled, "She came into town and started making eyes at him and then I turn around and he'd gone and then—then..." Vaas' brow furrowed in fear and confusion, "They said an animal got him but I know it was her, I know she did something and now my brother is dead and I'll _never_ see him again!" Vaas' blood froze, his eyes stared out forever. The wrenching horror in the pit of his stomach threatened to make him vomit. The world spun around at breakneck speed before his very eyes. All the warmth in his body drained and his legs threatened to give out from under him. "Dad's gone nuts, he won't talk to anyone, he won't even speak to _me_!" she sobbed bitterly into his chest. Vaas' mind exploded, shoving the images of the brutal scene back into the forefront of his thoughts, the blood, the sweat, the eyes. Oh God, the _eyes_—that cold, dull stare carved into a face frozen in sheer terror. No, he shook his head, no, this couldn't be happening. This was wrong. He couldn't have, he wouldn't have. What kind of sick joke was being played on him? The sound of Kayla's voice snapped his attention back to her, it had gotten darker—how long had they been there? As he stood there, his eyes wide with fear and horror, Kayla took a step away from him, her darkened blue eyes making his legs tremble with the self-loathing that resided within. "Vaas...?" she ventured taking another step back, "Vaas, you know something—tell me." He had never heard her voice so low and menacing, it shook him to his core.

"I—I," was all he could manage to say to answer her, "This—this isn't happening," he reached up and held either side of his face, "No—I didn't—I didn't mean for, oh fuck no..."

"Vaas?" her voice echoed through him, tearing away at his mind, scratching that hateful tone into his very soul, "Vaas!" she screamed, lashing out and landing several blows on his chest, "What did you do?!" Vaas staggered backwards until his back hit a tree. There he stood, staring at the ground,

"No, he was chasing her and I just—I just wanted to keep her safe."

"Who?! You know her? What is this some kind of sick joke to you?!" Kayla shook her head and covered her face with her palms, wiping her tears away as best she could, "I can't believe this..."

"I never meant-" he finally managed to speak,

"I can't believe you!" she screamed, her voice cracking out of pitch, "I looked forward to seeing you every day, all I wanted was to be near you, I _loved_ you, Vaas and you go and-" she broke down again, the reality of the situation made her double over. Frantically, he tried to force himself to think of what to do, what should he say? What could he possibly do? After a few minutes Kayla tried to compose herself, wiping her face and folding her arms. "... Vaas," her voice croaked, "I want you to leave."

"I-"

"I want you to get the fuck away from me. I hate you, I hate you more than _anything _for what you did! I want you gone."

"No, it—I didn't mean to-"

"I want you _gone_."

"He was fucking _chasing _her, okay?!" he roared, pointing out into the forest, "She was fucking screaming and crying! I—What the fuck should I have done, I only tried to-" Vaas stopped, a wave of sorrow crashed into him making his pain force its way out from his eyes. He felt utterly humiliated and ashamed. This couldn't be real, he thought, there was no way.

"... I'll warn you now," her voice quivered, "If I ever see you again, we'll kill you." Vaas' red eyes peered up, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, not from Kayla, "You ever come near us again and we'll kill you. You hear me?" without another word, she broke into a run,

"Kayla, no, please, _stop_!" he reached out, his fingers just brushing the fabric of her shirt.

"Don't touch me!" Vaas stared in horror as she disappeared into the little town and fell to his knees. He clutched at his head, digging his nails into his scalp as fiercely as he could making his arms tremble under the force. The world had been kicked out from underneath him, his head spun. His heart pounded violently inside his chest, making his breaths short and sharp. "No," he wept bitterly through clenched teeth, the pain in his abdomen threatened to tear him in half, "Help," he whispered, begging something, _anything_ to come to his aid. Something to wrap him up in its arms and calm him. "... Help me." As the minutes bled by, his sorrow warped and clotted into numbness. There was only one person left for him now, he thought, rising shakily to his feet. The flow of tears slowed as he pushed onwards. Only one person left for him to go to. The only other person who had soothed him, calmed him and kept him safe all these years. No matter how envious of her he might have been—disregarding all that sibling rivalry—she had always been there for him and no matter if something she said had upset him, he knew that he could count on her for the truth. He had no other choice, he would have to go to Citra and tell her everything.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Citra sat on her brother's bed with her legs crossed. She had come back to an empty room; Vaas was nowhere in sight. Of course the thought had crossed her mind, that he would run back to that pitiful creature Kayla, but she had hoped so intensely that he was strong enough to resist such a juvenile urge. It was no matter really, if anything it showed her how much work she would have to put in to force her dear brother to face his destiny. Vaas was mentally weak, prone to temptation—all of this she would certainly cure him of, it would just take time. As Citra waited patiently for his return, she couldn't help but wonder what he had seen in Kayla—what made that girl so special when there were much greener pastures closer to home. She was sickly sweet, this was certain, but really, was that all? It disgusted her that her brother thought such a vile creature was all he was worth. No matter how many troubles they'd had, she always knew her brother would come around. The sound of shuffling outside the window caught her attention. Citra let out a soft breath through her nose, mentally preparing herself for her dear brother's entrance. Her eyes mindlessly ran over his figure as he clambered back through the window.

"You did not tell me where you were going," she stated, her voice was purposefully calm and gentle, and even then it still made him jump.

"Citra," he breathed, propping himself up on the sill. She noted he was visibly distraught, almost shaking. The soggy intake of breath told her he had been crying. "I," he swallowed hard, all the time desperately trying to avoid her gaze, "... I just wanted to go for a walk." It was expected that he would lie. Shame was the first sign of knowing you had done something wrong, she had always thought. This was good, he knew he had made a mistake—it would make it easier to speak to him.

"Sit with me, brother," she cooed softly, caressing the sheets beside her.

"Citra," he cleared his audibly dry throat, "I need—I need to tell you some things..." Her heart ached to see him so upset and at the same time, it pleased her, knowing her plan had worked out just the way she had thought.

"Then Ishall listen, dear brother." Vaas slumped down beside her and sniffed loudly, rubbing his trembling hands over his face.

"A while ago," he began nervously, "I met this girl..." Citra had to stop herself from smiling. Of course she had known about that pathetic wretch. Nonetheless, she listened closely to his explanation, how the two had met, how he had continued to meet her day after day. That part, she wasn't expecting.

"Every day?" He merely nodded in response, "And what of your training?"

"... I'd take breaks. Head to town and maybe sneak a peek at a movie... see _her_." Citra felt so betrayed but she knew such an emotion wouldn't be useful to her at that moment.

"I see..."

"She told me they'd kill me," he muttered, tears forming in his hazel eyes once more. Citra wrapped her arms around him, placing her hand on the side of his head and pulling him close to her,

"Hush, it is all right."

Vaas shut his eyes, forcing the tears to topple down his cheeks.

"And after..." he swallowed hard, the memories of that dreadful night flashing up before his eyes, the fear spiked in his stomach, melding with the feeling of utter loss and hopelessness. "I took something... so dear from her."

"You mustn't feel pity for that beast," Citra reassured him, gently running her fingers through his hair, "That was his deserved fate, and you as a warrior," she nuzzled her head into his, "as a _man_, delivered it. Never feel shame for what you did." Her words washed over him, the soothing he craved was still absent. He didn't want to kill that man. He didn't want to take his life—why should he revel in it, he wondered. "Oh, it is difficult, my darling brother," she whispered, as if sensing his doubts, "But I know you have that fire in your soul. The lust for righteous battle, the need to forge our strength in blood... We are not like _them,_" she placed a kiss on top of his head. "This is our birthright." Vaas kept his eyes dead ahead, memories of that evening coupled with the look of hatred from someone he cared for so deeply burned his mind. No matter what Citra would say, he knew that expression, that dark, unholy expression on her face would never leave him—and that's exactly what he felt he deserved.

"I can't..."

"You _must_," Citra hissed, grabbing him roughly by his shoulders. "You must because that is who we are, we are Rakyat. We are our people, and we are their saviours. You and I together as one, fighting to reclaim our rightful glory—glory that was _stolen_ from us by those loathsome _foreigners_." Vaas watched wordlessly as her expression softened. She ran her hand down the side of his face and let out a delicate sigh. "Now tell me," her voice was soft, "what did it feel like to watch his life slip through your fingers?" Vaas didn't say a word. Citra seemed to be thrilled he had killed that man, more than simple vengeance would have her feel —there was something else. Even in his fragile state, he knew she was hiding something. It was the way she fluttered her eyelashes and averted her gaze. He decided to play along,

"... Good." Her smile widened into a proud grin. He watched as her eyes wandered, tracing over his dirt and sweat covered shirt.

"You look tired, brother, and your clothing..." she whispered reaching out and grabbing the hem of his shirt. She pulled his top over his head and dropped it on the floor. "filthy." Vaas felt the swell of dread in the pit of his stomach return, and for some reason, it made his skin crawl. "You are not prefect," her eyes remained focused on his chest, "_I _am not perfect..." Vaas shifted uncomfortably, urging himself to try and realise what point she was trying to make before she made it so he could leave. Citra bushed her fingertips over his shoulder then down to his upper arm, "What you lack in discipline—I lack in physical strength." Vaas' brow furrowed in confusion as her hand wandered over his chest, brushing through the patch of hair in the centre. He squirmed under her predatory gaze, the intensity of it making him feel like a scared child. "We complete each other, Vaas," she breathed, making his nerves set ablaze in discomfort.

"Citra..." he tried to put on a warning tone, but it only came out as a frightened one.

"Hush, brother." He wanted to turn away as she leaned closer to him, "It is all right. I will deaden your fear—your pain." Without any further warning, Citra pressed her lips into his and heaved him onto his back. Vaas' stomach flipped making him want to vomit. Frantically, he tried to push her away, all the while forcing his lips shut. Another wave of nausea flooded his body as he felt one of her hands snake down and caress his inner thigh.

"_Citra!_" he roared, shoving her back with all his strength. Hurriedly, he clambered to his feet, his skin crawled from disgust as he violently rubbed his mouth to remove any trace of her. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?!" the crash of sickness in his stomach threatened to overwhelm him. Citra leaned forward,

"Do not try and fight me, brother," her tone was laced with warning, "This is our destiny, this is our-"

"Shut the fuck up!" he cut her off, the hole inside his gut churned and bubbled. Without a word he cupped his head in his hands. He must be dreaming, he urged himself to believe it. There was no way something so monumentally grotesque had just occurred. "Shut the fuck up, Citra, I don't-" Citra placed her hands on his wrists, trying to pull them down so she could see his face.

"I will teach you respect. I will give you strength. Vaas, I love you, I would only ever do what needed to-" he tore out of her grip and stumbled back, trying to put as much distance between him and his sister as possible.

"Why are you doing this?!" he spat, his mind still spinning out of control.

"Everything I do, I do for the benefit of our people."

"No..."

"You are _weak_, Vaas!" His heart felt as if it was going to explode in his chest, "I have to look out for you, I have to make sure you are worthy of your birthright!"

"My birthright?!" he screamed, "My fucking birthright?!" She moved forwards, his hand shot out making her stop, "Don't you fucking touch me. I don't-" he let out an agony filled gasp, "I don't want this—_any_ of this shit."

"They are not like us. And yet you embrace them—their pitiful excuse for 'culture'. You use their filthy words and worst of all, you bed one of their women, as if she were your equal! You need to make a choice, Vaas:" she stated coldly, "your birthright, your _family_, or your little island whore."

"Don't you ever fucking talk about her that way."

"You felt you needed to lower yourself to _that_? To drown yourself in precious little Kayla's grasp?" she practically spat the name. Vaas stopped,

"I never told you her name."

"Brother, I love you-"

"How do you know her fucking _name_, Citra?!" He watched in muted horror as she folded her arms, her relaxed appearance made his stomach turn. "... Why did you go there?"

"Long ago, I promised myself that no matter what, I would make you a warrior." Vaas flinched as the cold, brutal reality of it started to sink in.

"Did you know who he was?" The silence made him shake, "Did you know who he was to her?!"

"... Yes." The calmness of her tone made him keel over.

"Oh God, Citra," he breathed, his lungs ached as he drew in his shaky breaths, "Oh God what did you make me do?"

"I made you do what needed to be done. That girl deserved to feel the loss that I felt. She _deserved_-"

"Your loss?" he repeated, "_Your_ loss?!"

"She made you weak! Just as mother made you weak." Vaas shut his eyes tightly, the sorrow, the agony he had felt in his heart for so long had peaked making him gasp in pain and anger. Everything she had ever said to him spun around his head, making his dizzy. His breathing increased upon feeling red hot, gnarled claws dig their talons into his thoughts, unravelling the very fabric of his mind thread by thread. With all the strength he could muster, he tried to hold on to his soul as it stared to fall away like rotten flesh. "If you want to be rebellious then so be it. But do not direct your anger at me when I come in to clean up your mess. You are broken, Vaas, but I alone can fix you. I can rebuild you to be the warrior you were born to be." Vaas couldn't speak, the disgust and betrayal stabbed at him from behind his eyes like pins. Citra placed her hands on him once more. Vaas thrashed violently, uttering an animal like roar and heaving her away.

"What was next, huh?" he uttered a bitter laugh through his tears, "You were gonna have me go and kill Kayla too?" Citra's silence made his anger swell, "I can't fucking believe it..."

"This is my fault," she breathed, "I didn't realise you were not ready. For that I apologise."

"For _that_ you apologise?" he spat through gritted teeth.

"Brother, please... calm yourself, let me help you." Vaas shook his head, he couldn't stand it any longer, he had to run, he had to get the hell away from this horrific moment and never look back. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the house, tearing his machete from the wall. He could never return to his home, nor to Kayla's little town. He would just have to make it out in the wilderness on his own. "Vaas!" he heard Citra cry out to him, only making his legs push harder.

Citra stared at the back of her brother's head as he stamped away into the darkness. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see that several members of the Rakyat had peered out of their doorways to see what all the commotion was about. What a disaster, she thought to herself. After everything she had done for him, everything she had sacrificed for him, this was the payment she received. It made her furious.

"Go and have your tantrum, brother," she mumbled bitterly under her breath, "I will be where when you decide to apologise."

"Is everything all right, Citra?" Tane's voice snapped her from her trance. She turned, gracefully sweeping some of her dreadlocks back over her shoulder.

"I would say not," she sighed, mentally shifting gear from the bitter argument. "Thank you for your concern, Tane. You are such a sweet man."

"Is there anything I can do?" Citra paused, pondering on his offer. Their father was due home from hunting soon and Vaas always seemed to snap out of his juvenile tempers when their father was present.

"I think my father should have a word." She smiled warmly at the other Rakyat, "Please, if you could fetch him and explain..."

"Of course," he jumped at the chance to impress her. Pitiful, she thought, but nonetheless _useful_. As she watched Tane jog away, she smiled to herself. This was just a hiccup, she thought, soon he'd be back with her, ready willing and able to accept what she had to say. She was sure of it.

Vaas wandered for what could have been hours. His mind raced with thoughts of regret, hate and terror. Kayla's face, Adam's eyes, Citra's... actions—he shook his head violently, letting out a quiet grunt. He had nowhere to go, he had no one to turn to. Bitterly he had to accept that his greatest fear had come to pass: he was completely alone. There, in the darkness he had been rejected, tortured—systematically torn down over and over again only to lie with a smile, to pretend everything was fine. His heart and soul couldn't take it any more. He knew he'd never be able to return to that place. The ripping at his mind increased, try as he might, he couldn't tear the memories out of his head—their cruel and callous barbs were embedded deep within his thoughts, rotting him from the inside out. For a moment, he wondered if he should go to Kayla. She had threatened him and the worst part was he knew she wasn't just blowing hot air. Maybe death would suit him, he thought. Anything would be better than how he felt at that moment, and that was all he knew. His tear stained, bloodshot eyes stared out into the jungle as he contemplated what death would be like. Maybe he'd see his mother again. The thought made him flinch and stop in his tracks. If only his mother was there, he thought, none of this would have happened if she had been there for him. He wished so bitterly that she hadn't left him, then he would have had someone. With a sharp intake of breath he fought himself to square his shoulders. He had hoped the rage inside him had started to cool, but of he were honest, he knew it was a fool's hope. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder making him spin around, grasping for the handle of his machete.

"... Father," he stated in disbelief, staring up at him with wide eyes. An overwhelming feeling of shame saturated him as he gazed upon the disgusted expression of his father. A pang of fear twisted inside his stomach, urging him to run but terror froze him in place. Unsurprisingly, Hunapo remained silent. He turned nodding towards the darkness, as if telling him to go home. "No."

"No?" he repeated, turning his body to his quaking son.

"I'm not going home. Y-you can't make me." The fear inside him bubbled and churned, allowing his rage to form in hefty clots and bolstering his resolve.

"You are coming home. I am sick of your childish behaviour." Hunapo watched expectantly, waiting for his son to move; his face hardened as he remained still.

"No." Vaas had never been so determined with his father before, it terrified him.

"My _son_," he all but spat the word, "Go home now and apologise to Citra."

"To your _darling_ Citra?" he mocked. The rage gave him strength as it gripped him, slowly consuming him.

"I will not stand here and allow you to speak to me like that."

"So don't," his voice was low and laced with menace, "Go home and comfort that bitch like the good little pet you are." Before he knew it he was on the ground, his head spun from the staggering impact his father had dealt.

"I will not be spoken to like that!" he roared, clenching his fists and staring down at his son. Vaas was flooded with an eerie calm. His body heaved itself upright under its own volition.

"Go home and comfort the bitch-" another crushing blow knocked him to the floor. His mouth and nose ached as he drew breath. Again, he rose shakily to his feet. "What's wrong, papa?" he managed to stutter through his swelling cheek. "Did I strike a nerve? Did your little boy hurt your feelings?" Hunapo's eyes narrowed, broadcasting his fury, but Vaas couldn't stop, he couldn't control his lips any longer.

"Watch your tongue, _boy,_" he hissed, clenching his fists at his side. Vaas burst out laughing, visibly taking his father aback.

"Boy, huh? Calling me a 'boy' is what's supposed to make me bow down to you?" He wanted to stop, he wanted to walk away, but the tempered hatred inside him wouldn't allow it.

"That is enough," Hunapo stated, "Hold your tongue or I shall silence you myself." Vaas stepped forwards, daring his father to try,

"And how are you going to do that?" A flash filled his vision as Hunapo struck him again making him stumble. "So," he raised his hand to wipe some blood from his chin, "So that's how you fucking do it? You hit 'boys' to make yourself feel like the big man?" The anger inside him was at boiling point, now he wanted his father's hatred, he yearned for it. "Go on, give me another. Remind yourself how the 'strongest warrior the Rakyat has ever seen' needs to slap women and _children_ to feel strong."

"You are baiting me, boy," Hunapo sneered, visibly shaking with anger. "I will not be drawn into your petulant games," he turned his back on his son, "You are not welcome in my home any longer. Your juvenile behaviour—you have always been a disappointment to me, to your _mother_." Something inside him snapped. The wall he had been forced to build to keep his emotions behind all these years cracked. The white-hot hatred exploded through the cracks, splitting the layers of suffering and loathing making them surge through his body, filling his veins with fire. Without a moment's pause, Vaas leapt forwards, wrapping his arm around his father's neck and yanking him violently to the floor, raining blows into his ribs with his spare fist. Much to his surprise, he actually managed to overwhelm the older man.

"You don't bring my fucking mother into this!" he screamed, frantically repositioning himself on top of his dazed father. "Hunapo the Brave!" he roared, slamming his trembling fist into his father's face, "Hunapo the mother-fucking Brave!" The flashes of blood and spit fuelled his hatred, urging him onwards with surges of pure adrenaline. "How's my offence _now_?!" his fist crashed into his father's face, the sweet feeling of bone and cartilage cracking and splitting underneath his knuckles made the flames of his rage burn even hotter. Vaas pulled back, releasing his father's throat and stared down at him, panting heavily. His father was severely dazed by the assault—this was good.

"Vaas," he choked, Vaas leaned down, pressing his forearm into his father's neck and stared him in the eyes.

"Yes?" he shook with fury as he turned his ear towards his father's lips dramatically. "Hm? What? What is it? You want to tell me something?" Hunapo's eyes grew misty as he peered up at his son. For the first time in his life, Vaas watched as several tears dribbled down the sides of his father's face.

"You are even more-" Hunapo's voice was shaken, "_Weak _than I thought..." Much to Hunapo's surprise, Vaas threw his head back and laughed. He tightened his grip on his father's throat as he laughed hysterically down at the broken man.

"Wow," he finally managed to say. "You never change, papa." his eyes blurred with tears as he cackled uproariously on top of him. "No!" Vaas shoved his face into his father's so their noses were nearly touching. The laughing had stopped, leaving only the dark and vengeful rage behind. "_You_ are weak. You danced around thinking you were the big fucking man but all you are is a pathetic, dried up, _useless_ piece of fucking shit."

"I—I never did anything to make you like this. You did this on your own."

"No!" he screamed, tugging his father closer to him. "_Nothing_ was ever good enough for you. I was _weak_, I was the son you never fucking wanted. Oh," he shook his head bitterly, his lips pursed until he found the right words, "You are sixteen now, by your age I was king of the fucking mountain." Vaas shook his head in disgust, "But Citra was always the perfect little fucking bitch you'd do anything for," he hissed through gritted teeth. "She swans around, like a goddess, and what do you do? What does _everyone_ do?! They bow down to her like she's a queen! All the while she's behind you..." Vaas gripped his father's jaw, violently forcing his head to turn so he could lean closer to his ears, "...Whispering with that poisonous little tongue of hers. Manipulating you like you're nothing more than a fucking toy." His wild eyes darted around his father's bloody face, "And mama... The only person who would give me the fucking time of day..." he gasped for air, "I bet you and Citra killed her." Hunapo struggled under his son's weight only to be fiercely shoved back down, "Did she help you? Did that fucking bitch help kill her? Mama would spit on the man you are if she were here."

"And-" Hunapo winced, drawing in short, soggy breaths, "and what would she think of her son now?" Vaas tore his gaze away for a moment, his eyes filled up again.

"I think," he forced a broad smile, "I think she would look at me and say, 'Well done, Vaas. You finally managed to take that prick down a notch.'"

"You are delusional. You are not worthy of my name nor my blood-" Vaas reared his head back and smashed it into his father's forehead, cutting him off.

"You sick fuck!" he screamed, feeling the hate inside him erupting again. His eyes filled with fire as he landed blow after blow, "You think you're so much fucking better than me?! All that shit you piled on me over the years, everything you ever said to me, everything _Citra_ said to me—fuck you! _Fuck you!_" Vaas stared down into his father's fear-filled eyes. He wanted to stare into those eyes, he wanted to be absorbed into them as the light bled away. All those years of manipulation at the hands of his father—and even Citra—had compacted inside him, waiting to be bled out and now finally, he was able to fight back. Without a moment of hesitation, Vaas snatched his machete from its scabbard and held it high over his head before plunging it into his father's shoulder, roaring like a wild animal. The scent of blood mixed with the terrified and pained howl fanned his fury. Vaas peered down curiously, almost admiring the damage the blade had inflicted. He tugged the machete out of the flesh, the sight of blood spewing from it had left him craving more. More pain for the man who ruined his life, hiding behind his grotesque sister, pandering to her every whim. The sound of steel grinding on bone filled his ears as he forced the blade into his father's other arm. The cries, oh God the _cries_. The sound of agony followed by whimpering made him shudder in excitement. Finally, his father would feel the intense pain he had forced on him all these years. Finally, he would know the pain of being mentally and physically tortured day after day. Vaas tore the knife out and raised it again, and again. The blood sprayed over him, covering him in a heavy mist as he manically thrust the blade into his father's chest. The frenzied stabbing continued, the meaty sounds of impact drowned out by Vaas' psychotic screams and cries. With one last devastating heave, he collapsed forwards onto the blades hilt. Vaas' eyes were closed, the only sound filling his ears was the sound of his own erratic panting. A bizarre tranquillity flooded his mind as he stared at the darkness behind his eyes. With a heavy exhale, he leaned back on his knees, releasing his grip on the machetes handle and letting his hands fall lifelessly at his sides. For a moment, he mentally studied the gritty liquid that coated his bare chest, face and arms. The heat of it had started to dissipate now. Keeping his eyes shut, Vaas' hands raised to his face, his fingertips tracing gently over the bloodied surface of his skin. Another deep sigh escaped his lips as he pressed harder, reveling in the sensation of the slightly clotted blood under his palms. His exhausted eyes opened slowly, watching as he held out his hands in front of his face. The crimson liquid caught a few glints of moonlight as he stretched his fingers. Vaas' hands returned to his sides, his eyes focused on the body underneath him. Curiously, he examined the gore. His eyes ran over the meaty globs of flesh, shorn from the jaw bone and forehead. The side of his father's face had come away, revealing several of his back teeth. Blood still trickled from the gouges and stab wounds, soaking the thirsty earth below. Vaas locked eyes with his father's, the two bloodied eyeballs seemed to be nearly popping out of his skull. He remained silent as he rose to his feet, his legs still trembling from the monumental dose of adrenaline his body had fed him. The wet grinding of the blade being pulled from his father's chest made his stomach tighten. Vaas' mind was blank as he stared down at the pitiful corpse. It felt so strange to see someone so 'all-powerful' lying there in the dirt, waiting to rot. Where was all of his strength now, where had all of his dominance gotten him? Waiting to be set upon by maggots and scavengers. For the longest time, Vaas had thought his father was invincible. Hindsight was a wondrous thing, he thought. Vaas reared the machete back and delivered one last final strike. The soft squelch shook his nerves as he buried the blade through his father's eye socket. He staggered back, not being able to tear his eyes away from what he had done. A burning sting of frothy bile at the back of his throat made him heave. He leaned over, placing his hands on his knees and fought to keep his nausea at bay. A soft chuckle fell from his lips as he held down another retch, but all his fighting couldn't keep the bile back any longer. With a deep growl, his stomach emptied itself, making him tremble under the force of it. As he hacked and coughed, his eyes were continually drawn back to the brutal scene. After what felt like hours, he straightened his back and spat the last remnants of the awful taste onto the ground. Another laugh bubbled to the surface as he locked eyes with the corpse of his father. "What?" he rapsed through his burning throat, "Don't look at me like that." He chuckled gleefully to himself and spat once more. Vaas looked up at the night sky and let out a quivering breath. He felt renewed—he felt _free_. The hatred and rage still boiled within him, but the short moment of respite had invigorated him. At that moment, he decided exactly what he was going to do. He risked a glance back in the direction of the little Rakyat village and snickered to himself, "Now papa, I don't want you to move," he whispered, turning his back on his old home once and for all. As much as his body burned for the desire to waltz back into the village, tear Citra out of her home by the throat and hack her head clean off her treacherous shoulders, he knew he couldn't. Not yet. Citra had pawns to do her bidding whereas he had no-one. Even with his shattered mind, he knew it would be foolish to do such a thing. Plus, she needed to feel the same pain she had forced him to. He wanted to stare her in the eyes as he peeled her flesh from her bones. His mess would soon be discovered anyway and it would be such a shame to end his evening there. With one last glance over his shoulder he ventured forwards into the inky darkness, leaving behind his so-called family and everything he had ever known. He took in a deep breath of the cool evening air, letting it chill his rage—for now. He would be back for her. He promised himself he would return for her head and the head of every miserable Rakyat in that damned village, to make them suffer as they had made him. As he wandered forwards, his ears picked up on a blood-curdling scream that echoed out from the blackness behind him. Vaas' lips pulled back into a sinister grin as he wandered into the darkness' grasp, letting it embrace him as he disappeared into its depths.


End file.
